Legend Of The Jokers Wild Revised
by CSS.Stravag
Summary: Set 1 of the Jokers Wild tale. A derelict patrol ship of an interdimensional Star Empire suffers a problem when jumping between dimensions, and lands in the L4 area of Cosmic Era Earth. How can one dysfunctional warship and its motley crew change the history of genocide in the lands of the SEEDs? (This Set of the Jokers Wild is completed, working on Set 2 now.)
1. Assembly Point Antics

(Legend of the Jokers Wild – Revised)

After a year and a half of listening to all the criticism and the compliments, and seeing where my writing has thus far gone, I have finally gotten around to cleaning up the basis of the bloodier half of the MultiMage Chronicles. The first section of the Jokers Wild Chronicles, the Legend of the Jokers Wild, has drawn reviews from both aisles of the Gundam fans, the dissenters and the ravers. Drawing on the criticism, it is time to clean the closet out and correct my prior errors while strengthening the parts that have been said to be strong points. Mostly, after writing as far as I have, then looking back at Legend, I see something that I know I can do a lot better on than what I have out there. And it is time I went about cleaning it up, for it would be naught but appropriate to have the whole work cohesive and proper. I owe it to both fans of the Jokers Wild and to myself to do better.

As I said prior, this is a side story, an epic parallel to and tied into another epic, one that is itself twelve years in the making and is itself long and bloody to compare to only reality. That it ties to the Gundam SEED franchise as its roots and takes the SEED world in a whole new and unexpected direction is only part of it, for this is the foundation of a tale far, far darker and more sadistic than the conflict inherent to Gundam. After all, Earth is simply one planet with colonies; the rest of Existence beckons to those with the will to try, and the will to kill.

And thus, may the revision of the madness commence.

DISCLAIMERS

As stated prior, this story contains a lot of characters, units, governments, history that I have created and that I have incorporated from other works. A lot of this is a multi-crossover fanfiction, basically, with elements as far-flung as anime, books, telvision, video games and board games. I will introduce most of the material as is needed, the rest (and interesting or entertaining facts) will be footnoted in my usual fashion. Thus, when you see (0) it means to check footnote 0 at the bottom of the document for some interesting intel. Much of it will be a clarification to something that people might find confusing, like an unfamiliar concept or term. Some of it may be humorous as well.

Note that the primary warship in the story was built using Battletech's rules from Aerotech 2, but is not legal for Battletech / Aerotech play, as it is well over twice too heavy for the maximum weight limit. Specs for the involved units will be included in dribbles in the story and I will do a full TRO section of the space units at the end of the story, as there are some that like the conversions from Gundam to Battletech. By the way, if anyone has thus far actually used one of the conversions in an Aerotech 2 game, please message or review with your opinions of the conversion.

Purists take note: I am trying to scale all included elements into a relatively cohesive set of comparisons here, though there are marked disparities in all included elements. They will be obvious, as they should be. When universes collide, the sound they make is loud and very very scary. There is simply no way to get around it, but one can make it (somewhat) logical.

GENERAL DISCLAIMER: I own no rights to any included material from any other stories. I intend no offense in such use.

VIOLENCE WARNING: It is the root of all Gundam, for without violence there is no war. Otherwise, it is called 'negotiations', follow? And even I cannot imagine a 'Gundam' with only negotiating, such would be less entertaining than watching paint dry.

OC WARNING: This story is OC-centric, and not in the typical fashion. Of course the main characters and a lot of the secondary and side characters of SEED, SEED Destiny, and SEED Astray will show up. You have been warned.

BAAAAAD LANGUAGE WARNING: This story revolves around a fleet of misfits and jokers. Expect foul language; they are Navy and Marines, after all. Also expect possible suggestiveness, crazy situations, interpretiveness, analysis, and lots and lots of violence. You have been warned.

ANTI-POLITICAL-CORRECTNESS WARNING: To strive to be politically correct serves no purpose, for real life makes no such distinction. I will not do so. Death before dishonor. End of story. Please don't ask me to explain this one.

And thus, onto the story from another corner of Existence...

* * *

(Legend of the Jokers Wild – Revised)

(Chapter 01: Assembly Point Antics)

(Date: 16 May 2SL-12 (SL 12062))

Like everyone else, Wayne was seated in the Dropship passenger common area, twiddling his thumbs while he hitched a ride on one beeter headed for a resupply rendezvous with another beeter. Or so the story went. During the seven-day journey from Terra One to the Jumpship that was to ferry him to his destination ship, he had spoke with the captain of the resupply ship _Vajra_, a rather ambitious name for little more than a freight and personnel hauler, and in so doing learned the Dropship was a piece of junk, a kickout of the early part of the Star Empire Wars for the purpose of carrying personnel and cargo in varying quantities of either to the great fleets of the Empire. For thousands of years, the _Quarter-Horse class_ Dropships like the _Vajra_ were the lifeblood of the evolving and ever-escalating war, themselves barebones and no-frills ships designed for rugged, long-service transport and 'trash-hauling' and not for combat. To point, the _Quarter-Horse_ _class_ only had enough weapons to scare an unarmored raiding party in a NL-42 taxi shuttlecraft; against an actual fighter, there was little to no hope for the Dropship.

And Wayne's destination ship was both far more expensive and far more 'beeter' than the Dropship he was on, which had one moderate engine malfunction before it even got to the Jumpship. Thankfully nothing else on the ship broke after the jump and in transit to the next destination, so...

"...So that's where I turned in on the puke, fired up my beam sword, and hammered it," the pilot sitting next to Wayne says to the mechanic sitting next to him. "By the time the dumb shit realized what I'd done, I'd already chopped the wing clean off his Vandal and got the liberty of watching him spiral in for a four-point-oh crash right into a hillside," and this he demonstrated with a hand gesturing a wobbly flight into his other hand, the latter representing a hillside. "Needless to say the rest of their wing got out of Dodge faster than I could catch up to them, so only one of them paid for their unit's arrogance," he concludes.

"Clanners aren't the brightest lightbulbs in Existence, eh?" the Mechanic asks back, to which Wayne was not entirely sure if he was patronizing the Gundam pilot or really meant it.

"That one definitely wasn't," the Pilot replies. "Still, 'they pays they batchalls, they takes they chances' as the old saying goes," the Pilot says (2). "And supposedly that guy was one of the best in that Galaxy, but I didn't find him any worse than the simulators," the Pilot concludes.

"You're awfully quiet, sir," the lady sitting next to Wayne says. "I haven't heard you say much of anything to anyone since you got on," she adds. Which was a bit of a feat, as he had been in this stinking (literally) Dropship for over a week, going on two.

"I'm still a bit...err...contemplative about my posting," Wayne replies diplomatically. What he wanted to say was far more venomous than what was said.

"Shouldn't be too hard, sir," she says, knowing instinctively the morose guy with more pilot qualifications than duty ribbons was some form of officer. "What do you pilot?"

"Anything with engines," Wayne replies with a bit more brevity to tone. "From the Light Strike Fighter all the way up to a check ride on a _Nirvana_-class Ultra-dreadnought," which covered a tonnage group from 10 tons for the former all the way to ten-million-plus tons in the case of the latter.

"Wow, most sane pilots keep it to one classification, maybe e'en one unit, not hamburgered like that, sir," after a moment she covers her mouth in shock. "Oops, I don't think that was the most politic thing to say, sir, I do apologize," she says. Wayne could just barely make out her accent as being one of the 'Draconis' holdings or a descendant thereof, the last bastion of the great House Kurita, whichever interdimensional instance thereof had been absorbed prior to her birth. Regions absorbed by the Empire, by purchase, military expansion or some other coup tended to retain their local flavor and dialects, making the Empire a case of America writ far larger and far more stable. Her accent felt somewhere between straight-Japanese-pronounced Japanese and Swedish-pronounced Japanese, which made interpreting her a bit tricky for Wayne. Wayne's Japanese was of the Durgan variety, a middle-Europe patois that was the de facto but almost never followed standard throughout the Empire.

"I did not say I was sane, did I?" Wayne replies lightly, to keep her from thinking she had just committed some form of grievous offense. Naval Officer corps were fast becoming known for their stuffy, decadent attitude when compared to the other branches of the service, which made for increased tension in the operating ranks, which caused a loss of efficiency across the board as the Empire's analysis showed. The best crews were at ease with themselves, from the bottom all the way to the top, disciplined yet civil, and ready to do their job at a moment's notice.

"No, sir, I don't think you did," she replies warily, not entirely sure he was actually suggesting what he intended.

It registered to Wayne: "Relax, Operator. I am not going to use your ass for a hood ornament on my ride just because you called me crazy. Such is far, far better than some of the shit I've been called in the past two weeks," he says candidly.

"And how many of them did you stomp into the ground, sir?" the Gundam pilot to his right asks, suddenly keenly interested in Wayne's conversation.

"None, they were all Admirals, I didn't get that luxury," Wayne says. "I'll give them this one as a package deal, I will have my vengeance in this life or the next, however long I need to wait," Wayne replies.

The ship's intercom dings a bell tone. "Attention all hands, we are five minutes from docking with warship _Mjolnr_, all hands to docking stations, all passengers please remain seated at your landing seating until docking is completed," and the cheap intercom system gives a bit of a squeal when it clicks off.

"Gods, they need to fix that thing," the Mechanic says. "I hope the _Mjolnr_ is not this bad," he appends after a moment.

"Fear, kid, fear like you never have before," the Gundam Pilot says. "This is my second tour attached to the _Montgomery_ as escort to the _Mjolnr_, and I can tell you that ship is a Gods-be-damned jaloppy if I have ever been on one. The only thing keeping it from rusting to pieces is that it operates only in vacuum," he says.

_Good Gods, those old bastards certainly got their last laugh when they sent me here_, Wayne thinks.

"So, what do you pilot, normally?" the Gundam pilot asks.

"Altron for light duty work, anything bigger for the fun of it," Wayne replies sardonically.

"Well, you came to the right place, then," the Operator notes. "This monster definitely is big, if in bad need of an overhaul," she says.

"It cannot be that bad, can it? This ship is steeped in history, it should be a floating monument to more than a few wars," Wayne protests.

"It ain't a former ride of one of those old bastards on the Admiralty Review and Assignment Board, therefore it gets less than the luxury of sucking hind tit from the supply corps," the Gundam pilot says, then smoothly adds: "No offense, milady Operator," he says as he looks past Wayne to the Operator.

She giggles slightly. "Better hope you're not in my area of control, or I may have to fly you into an asteroid," she cautions with an obvious tone of tease.

"Oh shit," the Gundam pilot replies in a worried tone.

**CLANG-WRAAM-CLANG**, the whole hull shook to the sound of the impact.

"Five minutes my ass," the Gundam Pilot notes.

"Did we just bounce off the docking collar?" Wayne asks with a grimace.

"No, that's what you call a trash hauler for a pilot," The Gundam Pilot says in response. "We're locked in, but he probably also marred the paint on his ship and damaged both his and the _Mjolnr_'s docking collar," he adds.

"Wonderful, if this is any indication of how the rest of this tour is going to be, I may finish going completely crazy," Wayne says dejectedly.

"Relax, sir, it can always be worse," the Operator says as she unfastens her seatbelt in time with the seatbelt warning lights flicking off.

"How?" Wayne asks in exasperation as he stands up and picks up his duffel and carryons.

"At least we're not marooned outside the Empire, sir," she says as she heads toward the lift shafts headed for the docking collar and the massive warship beyond. Wayne followed her close, knowing his destination was eventually the same as hers, only for a vastly different job from hers.

"Bloody Hell, girl, I can't believe you would actually believe that possible," the Gundam pilot says.

"Ah, he has no veterancy with the concept 'shit happens' or Murphy's Law, ne?" Wayne says to the Operator as the three, the Mechanic, and about a dozen more take the personnel lift toward the ship.

"No, clearly he does not, sir," the Mechanic says. "You?"

"I am well versed in 'shit', 'shit happens', 'fucked by the system', and every variant of Murphy's Law," Wayne replies. "And that is with or without the obligatory reach-around," Wayne adds for a ration of laughs from the other passengers. In five seconds the doors on the lift opened to the short hallway leading to the escalator into the embarking access on the _Mjolnr_.

"I hear ya, brother," one of the Engine Technicians says behind Wayne as they start piling on the escalator. In a matter of seconds they were down into the embarkation area, and the obligatory Marines were waiting at the bottom with senior ship's officers awaiting the arrival of 'fresh meat' from the transport. "Are you sure you're officer material? You act like you actually do something," he adds just before they hit the bottom of the escalator. Before Wayne could respond, they were accosted by something the whole group would much rather not have to deal with: an officer.

"All right, all ya laughin' pukes line yer asses up double time!" one of the Lieutenants shouts. "You, what're you doing in this area?" The Lieutenant says, singling out Wayne.

"I was in this seating area, Lieutenant," Wayne replies calmly, apparently unperturbed by his rough attitude. _Great, another wannabe Political Admiral_, Wayne thinks crassly.

"You're out of your assigned embarkation section, sailor, I don't care what part of the ship you were on, you're supposed to disembark from your assigned door," the Lieutenant was almost spitting fury at Wayne for this 'disruption of operational order', despite the fact that Wayne had no assigned disembarkation area. "Point Officer, find out where this Think Tanker is supposed to be and ship him there the hard way," the Lieutenant says to one of the Armored Marines nearby.

"Lieutenant, I will handle this one," a lady in a dark blue uniform says before the Lieutenant could get more derisive. Physically she appeared fairly young, barely twenty, if that old, and had the typical appearance of someone who was more concerned about their duty than themselves. Physically fit, her uniform barely revealed some details that Wayne would have spared no time hitting on were he a third younger than he was now, but it was her eyes that told a far deeper tale. One glance told him that the mind lurking behind the violet eyes was sharp and deep, not someone to trifle with, yet not an unkind person at initial guess.

"What? Ma'am, this is not something you need to be involved in—"

"I said I will see to this, Lieutenant. Any questions?" she replies far more forcefully than Wayne would have given her credit at twenty meters.

"No, ma'am, but I will be filing a report on this to the Star Admiral, whenever-the-hell he shows up," the Lieutenant says as he continues surveying the personnel that were filing into the embarkation area still.

"And you are, milady?" Wayne asks, knowing that the lady he was beholding was very likely the one person on the ship that alternately did and did not outrank him...

"Calamira Weste, sir, I take it you have been briefed in?" she replies, which was not entirely untoward given that who she was talking to was a naval officer of some type, though Wayne was not wearing any rank insignia but a helluva lot of qualification, duty and commendation ribbons.

"Somewhat, the ink on my posting paperwork has barely finished drying," by which he meant that this whole assignment had been laid on grossly fast. He figured it confirmed that this was the officer he thought it was. _Calamira Weste_, he drilled into his mind to make sure he did not forget it.

"So, Star Admiral Centara, do you want to remain here and listen to blow-hard's typical induction speech, or shall we get down to business?" Calamira says. The instant reaction to the revelation that who he had just ripped was the Star Admiral gave serious consternation to the Lieutenant, which made the whole matter all the more enjoyable to Calamira.

"I will go, but first..." Wayne looks back to the Lieutenant.

"Sir," the Lieutenant says as he comes to full attention.

"I suggest you start being civil to the enlisted and the other branches, Lieutenant. One of them may save your ass someday," Wayne says directly.

"Then again, one of us may _not_ save his ass some day, sir," The Gundam pilot says. This of course drew a ration of laughs from the whole area, Calamira included.

Wayne simply rolls his eyes at the joke. "As you were, Lieutenant," he says as he begins the trek toward the door with Calamira two paces ahead of him.

"So, Star Admiral, where exactly do you fall in duty terms?" Calamira asks in what appeared to be an innocent fashion. "Or, need I guess?"

"Likely, no better than the last few Admirals on this ship," Wayne says. "I did have some time to read up on the operational history of this ship, a long and bloody battle record followed by a period of gross misuse and scandalous maintenance...and staffing. I know there's no chance in hell of me being able to correct that in one stroke, but..."

"It's worth a shot, Star Admiral," Calamira replies.

"Some days, I wonder if it would be possible to suborbitally bombard the AR-AB," Wayne says. "Just erase it off the face of Terra 02, be done with the whole cluster-fuck, put the Star Admirals back under the DCT (3) where they belong," he says. "Pipe dreams, though. Those who chiseled themselves a ration of power will not relinquish it." Not that there was much power available in the fashion that they were using it, if the DCT cracked down on their conduct, the halls of the Administration Building would run red with the blood of the political hacks that ran said facilities. They only held power by mutual agreement of the Star Admirals and the blind eye of the DCT, though that could be changed in a matter of ten seconds with a suborbital volley, Wayne knew...

"Finally," Calamira half-mutters.

"What?" Wayne asks.

"Finally, a Star Admiral that actually lives in the real world. There may be hope for us all yet," she says.

Wayne followed the smaller officer quietly for a few moments, contemplating the bent of her comment. He decided that not commenting or even asking would be to his benefit, so he remained silent as they walked down the central corridor toward the bridge.

The ship was five kilometers long, and the central corridor went most of the way across the length, from the interplanetary engines all the way to the bridge at the absolute front of the ship. To either side were numerous bays, crew quarters, marine barracks, material storage, maintenance access hatches, and weapons stations. Even after a decade of driving and recently commanding ships, Wayne still found the sheer size of the _Phalanx-_class ships and the requirements of running one to be slightly on the side of insane, but the other side of that equation was one of these ships was more than equal to a fleet of old Inner Sphere warships and supporting assets. Especially when one Phalanx carried enough firepower to turn a smaller Warship into a floating wreck in one volley.

"Thousands of crew, hundreds of mobile forces, a compliment of monitors, dropships and support craft. I believe your last command was a _McKenna-_class? A far cry from a _Phalanx_, I can tell, sir."

"_Lei Kung_, yes, a _McKenna_. A brutal class, the _McKenna_, built for the purpose of smashing other ships to hell and back, but nowadays they are outclassed grossly, even with mobile forces refits. Another joke posting," Wayne grouses as they stop forward of the blast doors leading into the bridge.

"Sir?" Calamira asks.

Wayne looks at the floor, chuckling grimly for a moment, then back up to Calamira. "I'm not going to be false about this. I was posted here as a combination joke and get me out of their hair, since my tac scores are double any three of those old bastards I was posted way the hell out of their way so I do not interfere with them. I'll do what I can to get this ship back up to standard, but I can't make promises when I'm getting my ass cramped and malnourished from oversight indifference."

Calamira nods thoughtfully. "This ship for the past couple thousand years has been known as a deathtrap for Star Admiral's careers. I don't expect you alone to be able to break that tradition, but at least you are realistic about what you're up against. I think it may be possible with a little help..."

"Anyone on the ship going to object if I front that as my opening position?" Wayne asks after she presents her theory.

"On this ship, sir? They may commission the mechanics to make a bronze statue of you when you do that," Calamira replies honestly. She did not know she was undershooting the reality to come by an order of magnitude.

-x-x-x-

Gerald was expecting another political hack, not...this.

So far he had said nothing after taking a position where he could see the whole bridge crew. Everyone was standing at attention, as would be customary, but so far nobody had said anything, even the pilot and suborbital officer were not bickering. That alone was some form of sign, though Gerald had no real idea as to what form of sign that may be. From time to time he had seen these happenings before, officers that actually could do more with simple presence than saying anything would accomplish. They were rare, and often times listed among the best or buried under the worst by envious superiors. Though the Empire's ways were supposed to prevent that, it still happened, and the Star Admiralty was classic picture of why.

Gerald could also sense that the Star Admiral was selecting his tack for his opening speech. _Probably short and to the point_, he figured. He could already sense where this was going, and he knew it would make things rough for him and his units.

He was not disappointed. "I won't bother blowing any sunshine in here, ladies and gentlemen. This just plain sucks." He looked around. "I'll bet this is a bridge and likely most or all of the crew, all condemned to go no farther than this jaloppy in career advancement. Now, before I try to go about correcting this problem, do we want to?"

"Can't be done, Star Admiral," the ship's helmsman says. "AR-AB won't let us transfer outta here."

"Then we prove to the Division Commander that we are better than our performance standard shows, and maybe he will allow us to correct this mistake," Wayne says. "I will worry about the details. What we must do first is ensure our ship is in top condition and top training; after that, we figure out how to correct the problem."

"Us and a couple dozen more ships," the Suborbital officer says.

"Think they have pissed off that many other Star Admirals, Chief Warrant Officer?"

"Yes, Star Admiral, that and more," she replies immediately.

"Then the task is not impossible. All that remains is to determine if we want to do it or not," Star Admiral Centara notes. "I leave that decision to you, and the whole crew and mobile forces. If we do this, it is going to be bloody for both us and them. Keep that in mind."

"Sir!" the bridge replies in unison.

"Any outstanding major problems with the ship?" Wayne asks, more or less concluded of his initial speech. He was not one for the lengthy motivational speeches, and it showed.

"Neg, Star Admiral," the Chief Engineer replies.

"Very well, core charge status?"

"Core is at 86, sir," the Jump Engineer says. "We will be ready to jump in six hours."

"Very well. We continue normal operations. Jump Officer, plot us a jump to Hesperus 602, I have an old friend there that might be willing to help us out," Wayne orders.

"Aye, Star Admiral," the Jump Officer replies.

"I would like the Type Commanders in briefing one in half an hour, and full ship briefing in 90 minutes. Commander Ward?"

"Sir!" The Commander replies immediately. He was a training Ship Captain and thereafter a Star Admiral, though like the others he had been shunted to the _Mjolnr_ and left there, with only token promotions over the past six years.

"Continue normal operations, I will want you in the briefing as well when the time comes."

"Aye, Star Admiral."

"Chief Engineer, Calamira, if I may get a detailed briefing on the ship's present status and outlook before the conference?" The Star Admiral asks the two respective personnel.

"Then you'll probably want one more of us," Calamira says as she waves to Gerald.

"Right," Gerald says as he approaches the conference room behind Calamira. "Century Commander Gerald Lightbringer, sir," Gerald identifies himself as he comes to full attention at the threshold of the conference room.

"Wayne Centara," Wayne replies as he comes to attention himself. "Grab a seat, all of you," Wayne says as he approaches the Star Admiral's chair. "All right, I'm going to start this off by saying that I don't expect any of you to be completely proper in my presence. We're here to do a job, and we do it. No sugar-coating matters, no bullshit, nothing of the sort. If you have something to say, I want to hear it. I may not follow it, but I will listen. Conversely, I'm not going to tell you how to do your jobs, especially in the case of jobs I know very little about," and he nods to Calamira on this point.

"Nice, someone who doesn't fark around," Gerald replies. "Though, I do have one gripe before we begin, do you honestly believe we have a chance against the AR-AB?"

"As we are, no chance in any of the nine hells," The Star Admiral replies. "If we can prove that our performance reviews are unjustified, that we are better than the Admiralty claims, then we can overtake them and have them dismissed by the Division Commander. To do that, we have to get there," Wayne replies frankly. "And that is where you come in, lady and gentlemen."

"I might as well start, then," the Chief Engineer replies. "The ship is combat-ready right now, but as we all know this ship is not in mint condition. I have a stack of repair requests and no resources to use to fix them."

"I was told this ship was refitted with a Nanotech Machining system," Admiral Centara notes.

"Correct, Star Admiral, but we do not have the necessary paperwork or authorization to convert the whole ship aggressively."

"Do it, my authority," Wayne replies. "The Division Commander has said it is up to the vessel CO whether they want the whole ship retrofitted after the Machining Lab is installed, it is the Admiralty that put restrictions beyond that. The Division Commander's judgment trumps the Admiralty. Is there going to be any issue with making the conversion?"

"Sir, no sir," the Chief Engineer replies with a smile. "I think we can disabuse the 'beeter' stigma of this ship fast enough, if you're willing to take some liberties, sir?"

The Star Admiral leans forward, planting his elbows on the conference table. "Talk to me," he orders.

"It will take time and material, but we can upgrade all of our equipment to the full R5 standard, that is if you are going to let me jump-start the Nanotech systems throughout the ship."

"Super-node it?" Wayne asks for clarification.

"Yes, sir, that and more." Super-nodes involved a series of Nanotech machine shops throughout the ship, usually occupying unused cargo rooms here and there. They supported the structural Nanotech grid and also allowed the unit to recycle material into something usable. With a Nanotech Machine Shop, you really could feed the hive 100 tons of steel wool and expect to come back the next morning and see a bright, shiny Atlas assault 'mech waiting for you. "I've been running down some computer simulations of various applications of nanotechnology on the ship, and I found an optimum distribution of nano hives and pipes that would allow the ship to literally repair itself on the fly, so long as we had enough solids to do the job and the enemy didn't hammer on us too hard."

"And there is another problem, Star Admiral. It is the AR-AB that controls the distribution of the Solids Blocks, leaving us to forage on asteroids and wreckage," CC Lightbringer adds. "Unless you have a plan for getting around that, sir?"

"You're the kind of person that is sure to remind little kids there is no Santa, right?" Star Admiral Centara replies after a moment.

"Best to disabuse them of such notions of universal peace and goodwill while young. Makes dealing with the cold, hard reality easier and faster."

"He has a creepy sort of point," the Chief Engineer replies.

"As to your question, no, I do not have a plan for getting my hands on blocks of Solids, nor do I want them. We can do well enough foraging on our own with enough asteroids and debris. Solids, especially the quantity we would need, would simply be advertisement we were up to 'no good' in the eyes of the Admiralty."

_This guy may actually fly_, Gerald thinks but does not say.

Calamira simply nodded, though the Chief Engineer was smiling in a grossly evil fashion. "Any other standing issues from the ship?"

"No, sir."

"Then plan on beginning re-engineering the ship for nominal Nano distribution and using asteroids and wreckage to build our own blocks of solids. We play by the Division Commander's rules from here on out, nothing less."

"Aye, Star Admiral," the Chief Engineer replies.

"All right, next would be the mobile forces. That would be you, Gerald, correct?"

"Aff, Star Admiral," Gerald replies. "Simply stated, the Defensive Armor Forces on this ship are a bloody study in duality. On the one hand, I have some of the best in the Empire flying for this ship and the Monitors. On the other hand, I wouldn't hire out some of them as mercs for fear of embarrassing the Empire."

"How many flying hours do you think it will take to get everyone up to par?"

"Define 'par', if you will, Star Admiral," Gerald replies on the level.

"80 perfect-condition shot placement, doesn't get their ass blown off by wild antics, plays like a typical team, the usual," Star Admiral Centara replies.

"Nine months on the shooting, teamwork will take that and more even with composite drilling and heavy use of simulations."

"Then hammer the hell out of them, Gerald, and consider it an order if they need any extra motivation. If they challenge me to Trial by Combat, I want an honest-to-the-Gods challenge," Star Admiral Centara notes. "The rest of the Admiralty may think this a lofty time of peace, but history has shown that the name 'Star League' is cursed to be the subject of enemies within and without. I want to be ready to whoop ass whenever, wherever we are ordered to, and it goes without saying that since the AR-AB does not like us one bit we will be one of the first into the breach."

"Very well, if I may I would like to recommend as our first destination a real shithole of an outpost with a good officer wasting away that can better serve the Empire with this ship than where he is presently parked."

"Shanghai someone else's command? That is a hazard in and of itself, Century Commander," the Star Admiral replies.

"We have dozens of dock collars unused, fighter bays sitting empty and quarters with one person to ten bunks. We can stand to take on the personnel, and last I checked that hell-hole he is camped in should be condemned, it is that far out of maintenance routines. Therefore, we would be doing the Empire a service by better utilizing his forces and removing that station from the budget. I have some friends higher up that can sort out any 'political issues' that may become of the action, that is _if_ you are willing to try, Star Admiral."

Wayne considered himself very reluctant to ask who 'his friends' were in this case. "Okay, before I assent to this self-destruction, what forces are we picking up and what type of station is it?" Wayne asks flatly.

"The force is a galaxy of Aerofighters, flying primarily the Fireball with a leavening of Clan heavies and some others. The station is an outdated toroidal-type _Waypoint_-class Recharge station. Only some of the guns on it work, the equipment is R3 standard, crewed by good guys stuck in a miserable hell-hole of an outpost. We shanghai all the personnel and equipment, to use your phrase, and scuttle the station as a practice target, net benefit the whole way around."

"And the time it takes to strip down the station would be very useful for modding the ship and turning the scrap into usable resources, Star Admiral," the Chief Engineer notes.

"All right, all right, you win," Wayne replies before even Calamira gets on his case. "If you can confirm your comrades can clear up any inter-department issues with this, that shall be our next destination."

"All right, this is gonna be excellent!" the Chief Engineer replies. "By your leave, Star Admiral, I would like to get to work ASAP," he says as he stands up.

"Have at it, Chief, thank you for the input," the Star Admiral replies.

"Sir," he comes to full attention, turns smartly, and heads out the conference room.

"What I sense shall come next, best I be elsewhere," Gerald says as he comes to attention. "By your leave, Star Admiral?"

"Granted. I would like to speak with you at length sometime soon about the mobile forces and other matters of interest, Century Commander," Wayne says.

"I would welcome it, sir," he says before giving a Star League-era bow and leaves the conference room.

"And then there was just one outstanding issue," Calamira notes in the silence. "Well, two, I should note."

"One, by my count, personnel," Wayne replies warily, "or am I missing something?"

"Yeah, you need a proper introduction to the Ship's AI."

"This ship...an AI?"

-x-x-x-

The ship had jumped an hour before, and was moving the several hundred thousand kilometers toward the recharge station that they were going to 'acquire' the Aerofighters from. After that, they would move to Hesperus 602 (4) to pick an old friend of the Star Admiral, who much like Gerald's old friend would be able to help the ship.

"What'll it be, sir?" the grill chef and bartender asks several hours after the Star Admiral's hallmark crew briefing.

"Surprise me," Gerald replies.

"And for you, milady?" he indicates the physically smaller person that had followed Gerald.

"Erm, just a plate of brass cases," she says. The method of ordering meals in the Sniper Bar and Grill was unusual, everything was listed in sniper lingo and code phrases, which made ordering a little bit of an adventure for the crew that actually ate at the Sniper Bar and Grill every now and again. Most of the crew preferred the other restaurants down toward the center and rear sections of the ship, the command staff frequented this one but often with a leavening of pilots and Marines. So, by ordering 'brass cases' she had ordered a plate of chicken tenders with some french fries and mixed vegetables.

"Tony! One plate of brass cases," the head chef orders to his assistant.

"I thought you didn't drink normally," Calamira notes as she finishes settling into the barstool next to Gerald.

"Normally, no," Gerald replies. "I get this feeling, however, a future of bloody war is ahead of us all, and the ghosts of my past already rile in response," he notes. "By the Gods, I wish I did not have to do some of the things I did, but there was no way to get around them," he notes sourly as the bartender served him a drink. "Thanks, comrade," Gerald says as he begins to reach for it.

"Gerald Lightbringer, Calamira Weste, report to CIC immediately," the voice of the Star Admiral orders over the intercom before he could take his first sip.

"Damn," Gerald says as he stands up. "If anyone touches this drink, frag them," Gerald requests of the chef.

"Aff, Century Commander," the cook replies as Calamira gets off her stool. "Your dinner will be waiting, milady," he notes as she looks over the bar to the grill surface and ovens.

The distance from the Sniper Bar and Grill to the main door for the CIC was a matter of meters, nothing spectacular. Both entered at once, and could immediately sense something was wrong.

"Someone must have sneaked a raid warning in with the last batch of HPG messages we dumped prior to jumping," the port-side bow flight controller says. "Asshole! When I catch the svashri bastard, I'll wring his neck until his head falls off and use his skull for a shitpot," she swears vehemently.

"Chill out, Daisy, this was inevitable," Gerald notes from behind her. The voice, familiar and calm, still caused her to jump when he spoke.

"You—arrrggghhh! How the hell do you do that?" she asks in a rapidly growing mad tone.

"Silence, only silence," Gerald replies with an amused tone. "You rang, boss?" he says to the Star Admiral.

"We have two problems here," Wayne notes. "One, we have a stoolie," Wayne notes. "I'll leave how to find and deal with that to you, but first and foremost we have a problem far larger than one tattle-tale."

"Let me guess, the _Texas_-class warship _Colorado Springs_, correct?" Calamira asks.

"Indeed, they have said nothing yet but it does not take a brain-canner to tell why they are out here in the middle of nowhere," Wayne says. "We may need to deploy, Gerald, this ship is five times larger than that tin can but they will likely have called for reinforcements. Also, is there any way you can get our op listed as a special operation, where we aren't reporting our location all the time to the Admiralty?"

"Can do, sir," Gerald replies immediately. _I like this guy already, he thinks like a special operator_, Gerald says inside the confines of his mind.

"Conn, Radio Room, we have incoming from the _Texas_, sir," the intercom reports.

"Comms, put them on screen," Wayne orders. It only took two seconds before comms were synchronized. "This is Star Admiral Wayne Centara to _Colorado Springs_, state your peace Captain," Wayne begins, giving the impression of being less than in the mood to put up with this crap.

"Star Admiral, this is Captain Maxwell Luties. I have been ordered to arrest you for gross insubordination, or if necessary treason."

"Cute. And in what fashion do you think my playing by the Division Commander's rules constitutes gross insubordination?" Wayne replies.

"You have a layer of command authority between you and the Division Commander, Wayne. And you are plotting to or have already begun disobeying them. Look, you surrender to me and they may only drum you out. Resist, and you will make this unnecessarily bloody," the Captain replies.

"I do not believe the Division Commander has ordered a new rank commissioned between the Star Admirals and himself. Same from the ground side, the next step above Legion Commander is Division Commander. So, that being said, how did someone get a layer in there between?"

"You know damn well what I mean, Star Admiral," the Captain replies. "If you refuse I will have to take you in by force."

"Hey, where did Gerald go?" one of the Flight Controllers asks. Wayne put the thought out of mind.

"Captain Luties, listen to yourself. You are going to force the issue using an old _Texas_-class ship against a _Phalanx_-class superdreadnought that has both a full Mobile Armor compliment and four monitors. This combined unit has more than enough firepower to slag down your ship four times a minute. The only side this is going to get bloody for is going to be yours, kid," Wayne notes. Captain Luties looked to be about half Wayne's age, and Wayne was not all that old to begin with.

"Be that as it may, Star Admiral, you will not survive this rebellion."

"There is no rebellion here, Captain. I am not challenging rightful command authority. I am simply disregarding the attempted orders of those who do not outrank me. If they want to take exception to that, they can complain to the Division Commander about my conduct." That was the big red line the Admiralty Review would not cross, of course, since it would require them to admit they had de facto usurped the Division Commander's authority on these matters.

"Star Admiral, I have a launch request," the Flight Controller for the port-rear notes.

"Gerald, sir," Calamira notes. "He might be able to stop this progressing," she notes quietly enough he heard it but it was not picked up by the microphones.

"Very well, authorized," Wayne says.

The comms channel clicks. "Gerald Lightbringer, Neue Ziel Upgrade, launching!" he half-shouts in the typical fashion of pilots throughout Existence before they get shot out the end of the tube toward the enemy.

"What is this?" The Captain asks angrily. "Flight Control, launch—"

"Attention Captain Maxwell Luties, this is Century Commander Gerald Lightbringer in Neue Ziel. Per orders issued by Division Commander Gerard Caecilius not two hours ago, you are in violation of this task force's mission profile and in violation of orders issued by the Division Commander himself. Summarily, you are ordered to stand down and leave this area immediately. Failure to comply will result in a trial of grievance against your unit."

"What orders are these?" the Captain asks warily.

"Order package M3-2SL12-0511-DC062 and suborders DC062A and DC062B. I will let you peruse these orders at your leisure, but keep in mind that DC062B allows me to eliminate your entire ship with no hazard of Trial of Grievance, which if you press the issue I will eliminate your stinking, shortsighted, devil-butt-fucking crew in less than a heartbeat," Gerald notes.

Nothing was said for several minutes as the captain verified the orders as legitimate.

"This is bullshit," the Captain says after a few minutes. "You can't win this one, Gerald, not you, not a dozen disgruntled _Phalanx_-class."

"I don't have to win this one, your masters will screw themselves into oblivion in due time," Gerald replies. "Now, begone with your sorry ass, and noise that order package about to your comrades. I do not want to make this as bloody as it was the last time a group wedged itself between the units and the Division Commanders or Emperor, but I will not shy from it as a problem-solver." The incident he was referring to was well over 12000 years past but bloody without doubt. A conclave had usurped and co-opted the Division Commander of another of the Empire's divisions, until an enigmatic soldier by the name Erich Hess had eliminated them almost completely. Some had called it the scariest week in the history of the Empire, seeing the best of the best in that division so callously, easily annihilated by a practical nobody with the respect of the Emperor, and in reality they were not far off the mark.

"Go to hell, Century Commander," the Captain says as the link breaks. The warship began making its turn around, headed away from the station and the far larger _Mjolnr_.

"By the Gods, there are some times when I cannot but wonder how the Empire has survived this long without internal politics among the warriors shredding it apart," Gerald mutters to himself, though it was loud enough to be picked up by his radio systems.

"Anyone with two working brain cells has wondered that at least once in their lifetimes, Century Commander," Star Admiral Centara replies after a few moments. "What I would like to know is how the Division has survived this long with internal strife among the Warship Captains and the Star Admirals not causing problems for the rest," he appends.

"They do, Star Admiral. Frequently, though you never hear about it," Gerald Lightbringer replies.

"Warning! Warning! _Colorado Springs_ has launched fighters! Count two pairs!" _Mjolnr_ Operations interjects between the two senior officers waxing rhapsodic.

"What is this?" Gerald demands on open frequencies. "Fireball Aerofighters, cease your advance and state your intentions immediately!"

"The Captain may be willing to walk away on trumped-up orders, but I will not! Prepare yourself!" One of the presumed enemies shouts. Contrary to orders, they did not cease moving.

"You bloody fool!" Gerald shouts as he slams his ventral thrusters to get out of their direct line of fire. "You are disobeying the Division Commander's orders, not mine! You do that, you're consigning yourself to years of scrubbing toilets, IF you survive!" Gerald half-shouts as he moves his Neue Ziel on an angle that put him between the _Mjolnr_ and the _Colorado Springs_. The enemy followed suit, of course.

"So be it," he replies before Gerald's Neue Ziel was actively locked up by the oncoming enemy.

"If this is how you want it, pilot, then we'll see whose belief is superior. I accept the call to combat, punk," Gerald replies as he hammers his main thrusters to give him a massive forward jolt of power. As he closed rapidly with the enemy fighters he jammed the ventral thrusters to the max, forcing his unit above the enemy's plane of attack and giving him clear attack profile to the top of the venerable and feared Fireball Aerofighters.

The Fireball was well known for being sturdy, not necessarily super-fast. This worked to Gerald's advantage in that as he rotated up above them they were not fast enough to counter and remain on target; it was he who had the targeting lock next, and the mega particle guns on his unit spoke volumes for how displeased he was with their conduct, six beams fired at two of them to begin with, six beams contacting with five on the lead and one on the lead's wingman. The enemy lead's craft violently shredded apart as the engines shoved forward through the crippled fuselage, still burning hot, as the pilot ejected clean; the wingman's right wing took the hit but nothing more than that. On the following pair Gerald had four of the large missiles in the Neue Ziel hip binders to fire at them, though the destructive power of those missiles was nothing near as bad as the beam guns and though all four hit the lead of the second point it did not cause enough damage to slow him down. Before Gerald could fire another volley the enemy had already moved past him and he was forced to reef his craft hard right and away from the _Colorado Springs_, as one lucky hit from the main guns on the hostile warship would tear his unit apart.

"_Colorado Springs_, requesting assistance! Shoot that shit!" one of the pilots requests.

"And chance being drawn into a running gun battle with the _Mjolnr_? Like hell, pilot, you're on your own in this unauthorized campaign," the Captain of the said warship replies curtly. "Launch a small craft to recover the ejection pods, the small craft is not to engage the Neue Ziel," Captain Luties adds after a moment.

The two forces reoriented on each other and began their next pass. This time the enemy did not fall for any sharp maneuvering on Gerald's part, though their effort to slam his unit with PPCs failed as the particle cannons made it no farther than his I-field. Gerald countered with his micromissiles and by loosing his wire-guided arms, attacking from dead-on and below at longer range. He scored hits on the second of the lead point, though as they continued to close it was Gerald that did most of the missing with the array of four 105mm machine cannons on his armor (5), while the Fireballs managed to get him with the 100mm Autocannons they carried. The control computer in the Neue Ziel gave a damage assessment of minor, though Gerald knew that with enough time the Fireball was capable of just about everything—including scratching a Neue Ziel.

Gerald reengaged the fighters from below this time, and fired both in approach and parting. As he blitzed under them the Neue Ziel unloaded its beam guns again, this time with six hits on the three craft, followed shortly by the four large missiles and twelve micromissiles. Most of the missiles locked on the lead of the second point, when combined with the three beam guns that struck it the fighter broke apart without a pilot eject. The other two fighters took two beam guns and one beam gun apiece, the beams striking a wing and the fuselage but not crippling or destroying the fighters. _Damned beam-resistant armor_, Gerald thinks as he fires his twelve-tube micromissile launcher on the tail binder at the trailing of the second point that was attacking him. Were he fighting opponents with conventional armor, this battle would have already been done.

The Century Commander brought his mobile armor in low, though he never got the chance to execute his intention as he flew into a cloud of missiles from the two remaining Fireballs. Each of the primary-variant Fireball Aerofighters carried an underslung internal-mount LRM 10 rack and had the capacity to carry up to forty tons of missiles in space (twenty tons in atmosphere or fifteen tons when taking off from ground). This Gerald barreled through, four salvos of LRM 10 and about two dozen of the Phoenix SIM (6) hammered into his craft with violent shaking to loose his grip on the control surfaces for a moment. The battle computer in the Neue Ziel screeched its rage at the pilot as the damage mounted and weapons were disabled by the armor-cratering impacts of heavy missiles.

The enemy got cocky, though; as they turned off from the attack they did so in a predictable fashion, expecting that the Neue Ziel would be too damaged to continue the battle. Except, Gerald blew through the explosives and bored straight in on them, his own weapons armed and ready for the pass. The first of the Fireball aerofighters took three more Beam Gun shots to the ventral surface as he swapped targeting profiles for his machine cannons and missiles; the first pilot ejected clean as Gerald began spraying down the second fighter. The 105mm Machine Cannon mounted on the Neue Ziel (U) had roughly the same striking power as the Ultra Autocannon/10 carried on the Fireball, which when fired at a civilian shuttlecraft would go through it the long way with energy left over. The five surviving cannons hammering on the bottom of the fighter was enough to cause its wings to break apart, thereby tearing off most of the armaments of the Fireball. Moments later the pilot ejected before his fuel tank detonated, likely from a round lodging inside the cellular baffle and superheating the fuel to detonating.

"Lightbringer, _Mjolnr_ Flight Control reporting zero bandits or bogeys in the area. _Colorado Springs_, _Mjolnr_, do you have a recovery shuttle available?"

"Roger that, _Mjolnr_, we have a recovery shuttle moving to area," Captain Maxwell Luties sounded extremely disgruntled over the comm channel.

"Anyone else, Captain?" Gerald asks after a sigh.

"As I said before, Century Commander, go to hell," the line audibly clicks off.

"That was civil," Calamira notes sourly.

"Can't be helped," Wayne replies. "We threaten the order to which he has been brought up in. Therefore, we are an unconscionable threat to him. Oh well," Wayne tacks on with a sarcastic tone.

"Is it safe for me to come out now?" a separate voice says on the radio band.

"Rico, if you knew what was going on, why the hell did you not come out and lend me a hand?" Gerald asks plainly.

"Because my fighter is in bad need of repairs, you old bastard. I've been camped in this backwater hell-hole for years with less than hind tit to suck and no way to even scrounge parts. I've had to spend my budget on getting food and atmospheric scrubbers for the unit, the fighters...well..."

"You've been scrapping parts, weapons off your fighters to trade for food and necessary supplies, quiaff?" Gerald asks. Silence was the answer, since what that implied was illegal but no tribunal in the Empire would convict him for trying to save his unit from death by starvation.

"Hey, man, the Admiralty Review and Assignment Board controls the damned quartermasters. They can easily snuff a formation out by not supplying them, and then they hunt us down when we go rouge to get supplies. Catch fucking twenty-two."

"Shameful," Wayne replies. "All right, helm, put us next to the station." Wayne activates the intercom. "Attention all hands, this is Star Admiral Centara. Prepare to take on a full Galaxy of fighters, four Dropships, and any usable equipment supplies we can scrounge off the station. Let's give these lost souls a warm _Mjolnr_ welcome, shall we?"

"Star Admiral, this is station command, you have room for my personnel as well?" an older voice asks.

"Roger that, we are understaffed right now, the more the merrier. Does your recharge system have enough juice to get us ready to jump?"

"Aff, Star Admiral, I got enough to get you moving, what is your intention?"

"Charge up, remove personnel and working equipment, use the rest for target practice and scrap out the leftovers to my nanotech system."

"Thorough, I like it. Sign me up, sir," the Station Commander says. "With one proviso if the Star Admiral is willing?"

"Shoot," Wayne replies.

"I would like to take a shot at the station with your biggest Naval Autocannon, sir," he says.

"I think that can be arranged," Wayne says in what would easily be construed as an evil tone of voice.

-x-x-x-

(18 May 2SL-12)

(Location: Hesperus 602)

"A pair of _Flame Eater_-class Escort Destroyers," Gerald mumbles as the ships themselves finish docking with a resounding **CLANG** that echoed back and forth throughout the hull. "And some extra machines, of course," Gerald notes. "This keeps up, we'll actually run out of space to carry forces," Gerald notes with a wry grin. Despite his comment, he relished the thought of being in a full force. The _Mjolnr_ had the capacity to carry 80 Dropships or up to 20 of the larger 400,000-ton Escort Monitors. Right now it was using 52 of those 80 collars, thirty DropShips and six monitors (two of the Monitors were the 300,000-ton _Riga_-class Missile Frigates, the others were _Sendai_- and now _Flame Eater_-class Destroyers).

"That's what they make transport Dropships for, Gerald," Wayne replies. Which is exactly what had happened to him. Wayne's friend, Captain Holmes of the _Flame Eater_-class _Absinthe_ had scratched up about a dozen various Dropships, some with more units to carry along, others with a crapload of cargo for the patrol run. Each _Guild II_-class Cargo Dropship carried as much as 60,000 tons per ship of cargo, and when combined with the 592,000 tons of cargo in the _Mjolnr_ it would be possible for him to operate on a two-year patrol without a need for resupply in all practicality. Food would be an issue, however, which is one thing that the combined task force he planned to build up would need to acquire through third-party sources while out and about.

"Older forces, though," Gerald notes as he watches the Mobile Suits and the occasional Gundam from the 482nd Independent Tactical Formation, a unit of two short clusters (50 units each, total of 100 and support personnel). "Still and all, anything beats a stick in the eye."

"It would trump said stick if we could get upgraded MS for them, or even a good ration of Gundams," Wayne notes. Of the Binary (7) he was observing as they entered the catapults that led to their cubicles, only one of the machines was a Gundam. Granted one of the machines in the same unit was a Gelgoog Marine Commander type, but other than that the forces were a bit thin, older machines through and through such as Taurus, GM and Dom types. Aesthetics aside, they were machines that had been in service with the Empire since the times before the Star Empire Wars, which made them in model if not advancing technologies to be over 15000 years old. 'Fresh meat' in the Mobile Suit department was a bit thin, most of the advances went to the Gundams at the cost of scrapping out older formations, mostly to cut expenses in the renewed peace and interdimensional goodwill of these times.

"On our 'budget' sir? Where do you smoke that weed and nobody notices?" Gerald asks with a large hint of humor.

"Men's bathroom, farthest stall from the door," Wayne replies with equal humor. The Star Admiral was not averse to joking around with his subordinates when a joke was already in the water, but as a rule the Star Admiral did not start them.

"Ah," Gerald replies facetiously.

"Regardless, shall we go greet the two new Captains to our ranks?"

"Indeed, sir," Gerald replies. They were not far from the docking collars in question to begin with, only a minute's brisk walk to their destination.

The doors were opening as the Star Admiral and Century Commander arrived at the dock collars. "Captain Anastus Holmes, escort monitor _Absinthe_, requesting permission to board, Star Admiral."

The Captain of the _Absinthe_ looked a lot like the atypical seaman's captain, with a hard line to his expression, a beard that bespoke a falling out with his razor, and the large build of someone who threw rigging on a sailboat on a daily basis. Though the physical necessities of operating on the seas of planets did not translate to operating a Warship in space, the translation of the crew often did. Wayne could sense that there was a movement among the naval forces to move back to a more traditional position of conduct and appearance, and here as in his own wardroom (8) that was becoming evident. Wayne was not himself a bodybuilder, nor was he a slouch like the fatass Admirals on the AR-AB, Wayne looked and sometimes acted more like a ruffian than a sailor.

"Permission granted, Captain, welcome aboard," Star Admiral Centara replies.

"Been a while, Wayne," Anastus says as he presents a large hand for a shake.

"How goes it, Spazz?" Wayne replies as he shakes hands with the Captain.

"Just happy enough piloting _Absinthe_, thank you. I heard you got promoted but it was almost seven months before they dropped you on this one," Anastus "Spazz" Holmes replies.

"Yee-haw, joke postings forever," Wayne replies. "I whoop their asses in simulated naval engagements, they bury me for being better than them."

"Ah, well, when I heard what you were planning, I couldn't scratch forces up fast enough. This is Captain Nathaniel Freeman of the _Byzantine_, and he's in on anything with the threat of action," Anastus notes as the captain of the other monitor approaches.

"Captain Freeman, Escort Monitor _Byzantine_, reporting for duty, Star Admiral," the Captain says as he stops and comes to attention properly.

"If you're reporting for duty, Captain, then you came to the right Warship. At ease, Captain," Wayne says. "We'll catch up on old times at a later time, Spazz. Now is a time for business with a hint of pleasure thrown in for good measure. Gentlemen, this is Century Commander Gerald Lightbringer, Defensive Armor Commander," Wayne indicates the otherwise silent and observing Century Commander.

"I think I've heard of you before from somewhere," Captain Freeman notes.

"I didn't avoid the limelight somewhere?" Gerald looks around. "Blasphemy! I must correct this! But first things first, the extra cargo ships you brought along, and the combat carrier dropships, did not upload manifests. You have them?"

"Aff, Century Commander," the Captain replies as he hands off a comp-tablet (9) to said officer.

"First off, do your ships have any maintenance requirements outstanding?" Both officers replied 'Neg' to the Star Admiral's question. "Do you have Nanotech systems on your ships?"

"Neg, Star Admiral, our refit applications were refused, citing refits of the _Phalanx_-class ships," Captain Freeman replies.

"They've been refitting the _Leviathan_-class ships for some time, Captain, they skipped over this ship for reasons unknown to us. They likely skipped over yours as well."

"Ah," the Captain replies.

"Have your respective Chief Engineers pull a distribution pack from our Nanotech systems, Captains," Wayne orders. "And before either of you says anything, no, we are not playing by the orders of the AR-AB. They screw us, we ignore them. Problem solved."

"Sounds fun, where do I sign up?" Captain Holmes replies.

"You just did. We do a joint force sim-ex (10) tomorrow at 0600 sharp, get to know what we're doing and what we're going to face."

"If we're going to start this soon, I've got work to do. By your leave, Star Admiral?" Captain Freeman asks.

"Thank you, Captains Freeman, Holmes. Dinner at the Sniper Bar and Grill, 1700 hours sharp. You can meet the rest of the command staff at that time."

"Oh really? That sounds like a challenge..." Captain Freeman replies with a dangerous tone.

"Be warned, the patron of the establishment really was an Armor Sniper," Gerald says. "He knows his shit and he knows how to cook."

"Aff, sir," the Captain braces to attention and heads back down the corridor toward his ship.

"These wonderful days, what I would give to be here and enjoy it," Captain Holmes says. "I should probably get to it, Wayne. I'll see you at dinner, no?"

"Looking forward to it, Spazz. Thanks for tagging along on my journey into hell, comrade," Wayne declares.

"Don't worry about it, boss. Better we do it now than in the teeth of a far nastier problem."

-x-x-x-

Getting everyone integrated into the whole, basically turning a collection of mismatched ships into a single fleet and mobile force, was the challenge.

Calamira was staring at the ceiling of her quarters, wondering how these things happened. The plan had been a good one, Wayne was fast proving himself a very rapid thinker and strategic coordinator, able to take very diverse capabilities and use them to their maximum benefit where needed. The catch was, the officers under his command did not agree with some of his methods, despite the operational plans and maneuvers being more or less by the book modified for the varying circumstances of the battle. Even when the utility of such actions should have been obvious to the most greenhorn of cadets.

She rolled over, staring at the wall away from the door and her small book rack of various novels, manga and a few nonfiction books. She wanted to strangle Galaxy Commander Rico and Captain Freeman so badly. Had they played by the rules as Admiral Centara had laid out, the simulated trap would have been sprung as was needed and the 'enemy' _Phalanx_-class would have been stripped of its defensive monitors and most of its fighter compliment, but no, those two went after the glory themselves and basically shredded their CO's hope of victory. Never mind that Calamira had ripped both of them up one side and down the other for that failing, since she was the administrator of the drill and even she could have seen the utility of the Star Admiral's plan.

"It was mistakes like this one that caused more Naval screwups during the Star Empire Wars than better-laid enemy plans," Calamira mutters to the wall, repeating what she had told them in conclusion to her ripping. It was the hazard of following the ethos of the Clans at least partially, some people were more interested in personal glory rather than overall victory, which made winning a lot more difficult in some cases.

"Gods, I need a vacation," Calamira mutters after a moment.

"I can put you into the queue for vacation time at this time, Calamira," the ship's AI notes.

"Earliest possible time I could get out of here?"

"Two weeks after the elimination of the Admiralty Review, or I could mail the Division Commander for a release," the AI replies. To Calamira, the AI always sounded like an eighteen-year-old lady.

"Don't bother, then," Calamira replies. "No sense requesting any favoritism from the DCT, I'll relax on this ship...somehow..." she trails off.

"I would advise against delaying, Calamira, but if it is how you wish to do so, then I shall respect that. Is there anything you want me to have shipped to the ship?"

Calamira rolled back to where she was staring at the ceiling. "Yes, actually, the next few volumes of the Spellsinger series, please." She was referring to a series of novels that she had taken to reading, actual printed published paperback novels that were always fun to read and worked even when the computer interface in her cabin did not work.

A pause of five seconds. "Order placed, comrade. They appear to have been running a promotion for active-duty military, you get them at 30 percent off."

"Excellent," Calamira replies. Saving a few bucks was always a good thing, regardless of how one cut it.

"The next drill is at 1000, Calamira. Might I suggest you get some rest for it?"

"Might as well try," Calamira replies. "Good night," she replies automatically.

"It shall be, Calamira," the AI replies after a moment. For her part, Calamira figured they could do this if the officers could get their shit straightened out and get everything working right.

-x-x-x-

"Let me guess, a Bloody Mary," the bartender notes as Gerald sits down at the bar.

"Yeah," Gerald replies. "And add a six-pack of Mike's, on the side," he adds.

"You going to be able to stand after that?" Wayne asks as he grabs a barstool next to the Century Commnader.

"Standing is not my concern. Remembering the ghosts of battles past, or not remembering them, is what I seek," Gerald replies. "Defeats like today, they make me remember those I couldn't save."

Of course, the two listening to him could naught but guess what Gerald was referring to. They both had tried looking at his record, and it was classified to the Division Commander or higher. That was a big red flag that Gerald Lightbringer was not a typical soldier of the Empire, but little mention of him was seen anywhere to warrant notice.

"From a straight command presence, Star Admiral, we would have won if Rico had followed the game plan. Sorry about that."

"What was his motivation?" Wayne asks, ignoring the fact that Gerald somehow seemed to consider himself obligated to apologize for Rico's performance.

"He thought the enemy would move in that direction. He wasn't out for a glory assault on their right flank, he misread their leaning. I think Calamira was a bit unfair on him and Captain Freeman."

"They both may be right, they both may be wrong. I don't know, all I know is it fell in the shitcan when they jumped too early," Wayne says before he has his first sip of a Whiskey Sour.

"Too far, too fast down the toilet to recover. At least we took 'em to hell with us," Gerald opines as a possible bright light in the otherwise dim sum.

"Some consolation that shall be," Wayne replies. "I'd like to do that first time right," Wayne adds. "Once we can do that, we should be able to do more than that under the worst of circumstances. And, when we get ourselves a real large fleet and get them trained up, kiss them assholes goodbye," he adds with holding his whiskey sour up for a toast.

"A toast, then, to the blatant end," Gerald says as he hefts his Bloody Mary.

"The blatant end, is it?" Captain Holmes says as he grabs a seat next to Wayne. "Draft beer, good sir, and a row of chicken fingers," he requests of the bartender.

"It shall be, someday," Wayne replies. "Some day, we will walk away and be free of attempted oppression from inside our own ranks. Someday, comrade, someday."

"We'll be back here frequently, I hazard, drinking to fallen comrades en masse." Wayne gives the Captain a strange look, prompting an explanation: "Lazy lounge cats though they may be, pussies they are not, Wayne. We will take a beating, but once enough of the ranks see the righteousness of our cause there may be a waiting line to kill off the Admiralty," he declares pensively.

"More is the better we showed up to the party early, then," Gerald notes.

"And thus, to the blatant end, comrades."

The clinking of their glasses would signal the beginning of a fate far more strange than even they could imagine in their wildest dreams.

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

Finally, to rebuild the original in a fashion that is more clear and a lot less confusing than the original. I have heard the criticism, and I hope this goes a way to clearing up what I did wrong in the first issue of the story. And I intend on making it longer overall than the predecessor, in fact in the first few chapters it should overtake the original, including the TROs, in total size.

In the beginning, the plan was to basically Refuse the Admiralty, get the command authority back to the Division Commander. Except, the fate shall change but the plan will never be buried. It may come back to haunt the Admiralty Review at a later time, of course...

The rogue battle between Gerald and the four pilots from the Colorado Springs is actually commonplace among the Empire's forces. One of the tenets of the military is 'to prevent the abuse of power by the military, the forces shall regulate themselves in Trial by Combat' as goes the Magna Dictum, the document under which the Empire is governed (sort of like the United States Constitution). Of course, where power is in play it can be misused, and this is one such case. On the bright side, only one of the pilots ended up dead, two wounded.

This chapter is just setting the stage. Be prepared for a wild and raucous multi-faceted battle to come, as the battle that eventually spawned the Jokers Wild series is played out in more than just passing thoughts. It will be big. It will be bloody. And it may even be scary, if you think about it right.

And that reminds me of something. Rather than putting the TROs at the end of the story, I'll drop them in at the end of each chapter where they are the most relevant. So, if you play Battletech or Aerotech, or just want to see the logic under which I operate when writing out the battles, check the end of the chapter if a unit figures in prominently. Like the Fireball Aerofighter and the Neue Ziel Aerotech TROs below.

* * *

Review Replies:

As this is the first chapter, I don't have any reviews yet. However, I do have to thank the reviewers **Bien Canonizado** (Now **TheGreenKnight63**), **Gatomon41**, **Anja-Chan **(Whom I should note reviewed practically half the story), **FraserMage** (who did several reviews and PMs on the TRO sections and who continues to review on my battle-based fic _Inferno in Chicago_), and **Sandy / Sandster**, whose review was probably the most motivation to redo something that I have ever had.

* * *

The Gripe Sheet:

No shortage of gripes follow from the prior works, and I intend on correcting them all or most of them. Most of all the original was too grossly technical in the story body, which I am trying to circumvent by use of the footnotes below.

* * *

Footnotes:

(0): I should note that a lot of the footnotes for the early sections of this story are going to be based on questions that came from reviews to the original, where I was not sufficiently clear as to the purpose or info at the time. Also, as craft are encountered in the story I will include their Naval TRO at the end of the story section.

(1): Battletech source material states that the buying power of the C-bill is equal to three dollars US in 1999, which puts it close to 3.70 in 2008. As per this story and its background, the C-bill has about the same power right now.

(2): Batchall refers to the Clan practice of rituals for issuing a challenge to another Clan warrior.

(3): DCT: Division Commander Techstrikers. 4th in command of the Empire, administratively commands all units that are primarily technological-based (warships, formations of tanks or mobile forces, etc).

(4): Planet listings like this are a combination of planet name and inhabited dimension number. To simplify describing planets when there can be literally thousands of inhabited planets with the name Hesperus where each is mostly the same except the inhabitants, the planet also receives the Common Jump Location number of the dimension in which it exists, which is a sort of pre-saved interdimensional destination list for jump engineers. This will be explained more thoroughly in an upcoming chapter.

(5): Neue Ziel (U) Variant has increased armor protection, maintains speed as the original and increases the close-range fighter protection with a series of four 105mm Machine Cannons integrated into the shoulders above the beam guns. See the TRO below for a complete listing on the modifications.

(6): **S**pace **I**ntercept **M**issile. Modified to be maneuverable in space. Aphid is the smallest classification at six missiles to the ton, Phoenix is the largest at just shy of one ton a missile. And the larger the missile, the more damage it causes.

(7): Binary: A unit comprised of two Stars (5 units), A Star (5 points) plus a Lance (4 points) or a Reinforced Star plus a standard Star (6 points + 5 points). At 12 units it is a different formation entirely. See below for a detailed explanation of the ranking systems.

(8): Wardroom refers to either a room that is actually called that, or the cadre of senior officers of a ship.

(9): **Comp**uterized Note-**tablet**: the great answer to paper in all but a handful of situations.

(10): **Sim**ulation **Ex**ercise: An exercise run typically by setting the involved ships and smaller units into simulation mode by connecting them to specialized simulation servers typically carried on a larger Warship. In this fashion it is possible to train a fleet with only minimal expenditure of resources, and can be done on the fly without having to stop and prepare a testing grounds.

* * *

Logic and Reason:

On today's logic section, I'm going to break down the complex and unorthodox ranking structure of the Empire.

Originally, the Empire used the standard / NATO command structure, all of which answered to the Emperor in the end. That changed after a certain rather brutal incident that I will eventually post as part of the original story this one is based off. For now, though, here is the present rank and organization structure of the Empire's forces:

Point Officer: Lowest rank. One person, basically, in cases where there are more than one unit to a point (as in five Armored Infantry being a point). Note that the junior officer in a pair of fighters (sometimes called an element) is also considered a Point Officer.

Point Commander / Mechwarrior / MS Pilot / Gundam Pilot: Either the commander of a point of individual troops, or pilot of single war machine such as an Omnimech or Gundam. Specialists also fall under this designation.

Star Commander: The Commanding Officer of a star, or five units assigned to the same unit. Star Commanders are the equivalent of Master Sergeants or Warrant Officers. In Naval Ranks, a Petty Officer falls in this area.

Star Captain: CO of a Binary (two stars) or Trinary (Three stars) or equivalent formation. Trinaries are considered the smallest effective maneuver formation in the Empire, and receive the lightest-duty operations or where a larger force is impractical for deployment or battle. Even still, a Binary is a lot of combat force to be applied anywhere, by the numbers. Equivalent naval ranks span from Chief Warrant Officers to Lieutenant.

Star Colonel: CO of a Cluster, which is any combination of three binaries to five Trinaries in standard practice. Clusters are the bread-and-butter maneuver formations of the Empire, used for just about any task imaginable in battle. The one shortcoming of Clusters is that in normal practice they do not have attached support assets (artillery, mechanical maintenance, medical, etcetera) unless specifically assigned to operate independently. Equivalent naval ranks is Lieutenant Commander at the low end to Captain at the high end. Most warships under 1 million tons fall into this command bracket.

Galaxy Commander: CO Of a Galaxy, which is a combination of three to five Clusters (officially—there are some exceptions). Galaxies are the most common weighted formations, used particularly in heavy assault and defense operations. Most planetary garrisons comprise one large or two small galaxies. And no, there has never been a recorded incident of a whole Galaxy being wiped out by one Gundam. Period. Nothing even close. Equivalent Naval Ranks range from Commodore to Rear Admiral, and equates a Brigadier General to Major General. Warships between 1 million and 2.5 million tons fall into this command bracket, as well as any attached fleet assets (escort monitors, dropships, etc).

Century Commander / Star Commodore: Commands a Century, or three to five Galaxies. Centuries were first implemented during the Quarter War phase of the Star Empire Wars to meet the needs of having more than one Galaxy under the same command structure, since the practice of Contract Bidding (combining forces during a bid for the right to assault an objective) had been absolved by the Emperor. Centuries were and are used to assault the heavily-fortified industrial planets and colony clusters that a single Galaxy or even a pair of them would have difficulty overtaking. It should also be noted that no Century is homogeneous, ergo every Century has mixed assets combining ground, air, and mobile forces, as well as a leavening of infantry and specialists. Equivalent Naval rank is Vice Admiral, and Warships and small fleets comprising between 2.5 million tons and 5 million tons fall into this category, though there are exceptions to the weight limit for this group.

Legion Commander / Star Admiral: Commands a Legion, the single largest maneuver formation used during the Star Empire Wars by any side. Legions comprise no less than 4 Centuries and could be rated as high as seven Centuries. Legions themselves counted as too large for even planetary conquest, and usually saw action in battle across several neighboring star systems at once. In this fashion, one Legion is capable of overwhelming numerous smaller enemy formations and forcing the rest of the area into a defensive posture, tying up an incredible amount of enemy resources. In naval parlance, the rank of Admiral or higher (Fleet Admiral) falls in here, and one such officer typically commands the largest Warships (5 million tons and above) as well as larger fleets and flotillas.

Strategic Officer: Not technically a force command rank, per se, the Strategic Officers were founded early in the Star Empire Wars for the purpose of coordinating multiple maneuver formations in joint operations. In terms of command authority, they both are and are not higher than the highest rank of that time short of Division Commanders. When conducting the battle from a strategy point, they are just short of the Division Commanders in overall authority. In direct combat, most SO's qualify as Point Commanders and are technically required to answer to a Star Commander, unless they achieve a rank higher than that by nominal means. With the advent of the Legion, Strategic Officers lost most of their prominence as a Legion Commander effectively did the same job from inside the normal command structure, though Strategic Officers still technically exist as late as the Second Star Empire Wars.

Division Commander: Only five Division Commanders exist at any given time, and each Division Commander has administrative control of one classification of units. The five classifications are (in order of command authority) Magi (wizardic forces), Bladesman (Infantry and specialized support for Infantry), TechStrikers (Ground armor and naval forces), Commandos (Amalgam of the first three, special forces), and Special Operations (intelligence gathering, spying, similar pursuits). A Division Commander himself or herself does not command an amount of units, per se, they are the ones that usually coordinate the battle plans of the larger battle formations and administrate resource control from a high level perspective. Each Division Commander is expected to be the best or close to it in their field. They are also considered the second-in-command of the whole Empire from a position of leadership. There is no equivalent NATO rank to this position, as a Division Commander effectively commands more personnel than could be physically crowded onto Terra.

Emperor / Empress: The command of the Empire is the highest military rank of all, as the Empire is both administered and defended by the warriors and the entire military answers to the Emperor or Empress.

Advancing rank: To advance from one rank to the next rank, three requirements are needed. First, the applying officer must demonstrate a knowledge of the necessary requirements for that rank (ability to effectively coordinate that size of formation and administrate it so it does not fall apart from lack of maintenance). Second, the officer must have shown ample time in service comparable to the rank intended, and lastly must fight and succeed in a Trial of Position against a selected officer of mid-grade in that rank. Ergo a Star Captain seeking to fleet up to Star Colonel will have to prove he is equivalent of combat, strategic and administrative skill to a Star Colonel selected from those who have been Star Colonels for some time. The exception is Trials for Division Commander rank are fought as a 64-person elimination tournament from the absolute best of the Division in question. The Trial of Position is real combat (except the strategy battles are simulated), and though death is not expected it is not entirely uncommon, either. Thus it is not uncommon to find a Legion Commander is also an exceptional duelist in a unit that is in his subclassification.

* * *

**TRO SECTIONS**: I have two TROs to note today, the Fireball Aerofighter and the Neue Ziel Upgrade. TROs, or **T**echnical **R**ead**o**uts, are a detailed look at the design and history of a craft, shown in a form that can be used by a Battletech player to use them in their games. Since I do a lot of work with special equipment and custom weapons, I have also included custom rules for their use in Battletech. It can often be said that much of the popularity of Battetech (Classic batteletech to anyone new to it) is the intricate, long history of the story, the game and the units that show up in it.

* * *

**AeroTech 2 Vessel Technical Readout**

**Class/Model/Name**: Fireball Prime

**Tech: **Mixed Tech / 3067

**Vessel Type: **Aerospace OmniFighter

**Rules: **Level 3, Standard design

**Mass: **100 tons

**Chassis: **Lunar Industrial Fireball

**Power Plant: **TelStar 400 XL Fusion (C)

**Safe Thrust: **6

**Maximum Thrust: **9

**Armor Type: **Lunar Industrial Fireball Modular Ferro-aluminum (Clan)

**Armament:**  
1 Savannah Weps Ultra AC/10 (C)  
2 Optifree DistKiller ER PPC (C)  
2 Delta Dart CT LRM 10 (C)  
1 Sitec Heavy Metal Angel ECM Suite (C)

**Manufacturer: ** Lunar Industrial & Technical  
**Location: ** Luna 02, multiple others  
**Communications System: ** Lunar FTC-1  
**Targeting & Tracking System: **Lunar FTC-1

**Overview:**

As the Star Empire wars began, the Magi had deployed literally dozens of types of fighters and omnifighters for every imaginable purpose of combat, though this had the side effect of varying units combat capabilities and logistical problems with keeping parts similar. Thus, a call went out to the major aerospace manufacturers to conceive a heavy omnifighter that could be mission-configured for any purpose needed, could carry at least twelve tons of bombs or other disposables, and had a long flight time with option to extend by external fuel tanks. Lunar Technical and Industrial responded in hours with the Fireball, a new Omnifighter they had been preparing to unveil at the annual Aerospace Open. Within two days, the Fireball had been confirmed as the fighter to fit the needs.

**Capabilities:**

The Fireball Omnifighter was initially engineered from the ground up as an 'Atlas with Wings' in terms of survivability, with twenty-one and a quarter tons of armor it has more armor than the Atlas and more armor than all but the Hydaspes. Added to this is the maximum available flight profile for its size courtesy of a 400XL engine manufactured by TelStar Engines, and a broad wing surface for ease of control and lift in atmospheric flight (as well as carrying external stores), and you have a recipe for a very effective fighter. The last leg of the requirements for the fighter, length of sortie, was completed by giving the fighter an unheard-of eight tons of fuel in the fuselage, and options to replace weapons component space with more fuel tankage as well as the ability to carry up to fifteen tons of drop tanks from a ground launch profile or twenty tons from a space launch. With a full fuel tank and the standard Angel ECM installed but no weapons installed, the Fireball weighs in at sixty tons. The craft is spec'd for a takeoff weight of 100 tons, 115 from ground with external stores or 120 for a space launch, though the space launch weight max has been cheerfully violated from time to time.

The remaining forty tons of internal weight are the pod space, reconfigurable weapons space that can be loaded with any combination of beam, ballistic, or missile weapons available to the Magi and even some weapons exclusive to the Negaverse that may be captured in battle. Though there are fighters that carry more weapons than forty tons, few fighters carry enough guns to outlast a Fireball in a shooting match, and even less fighters are manufactured and deployed in anything even approaching the flight ratio the Fireball sees. With as many as half of the Magi's fighters being the Fireball, it is a hard design to top in sheer quantity and variability.

The primary and most common weapons loadout gives the Fireball heavy punch at longer ranges for intercepting other fighters and for pinpoint attacks against ground targets. The main gun of the Primary variant is a 100mm class ten Ultra Autocannon, easily capable of punching severe holes in smaller fighters and shaking up larger ones. In the wing roots are a extended-range PPC and under the wing edge is a Delta Dart CT LRM 10, giving it long-range punch. The surprising thing about this variant is that it has no lasers whatsoever, making it an interesting primary-variant weapon system much like the Clan Summoner Omnimech.

The A variant is a stark contrast to the Prime, in which the only weapons it carries is lasers. In the nose is a pair of Medium Pulse lasers and a single ER Medium laser, forming an inverted triangle in firing ports. Each wing is studded with two ER Large lasers, providing the craft with its main punch. This combination gives the A variant excellent strafing capabilities as well as a complete lack of ammunition. The machine carries a whopping nineteen extra heat sinks to vent extra heat, which allows for the firing of all the lasers with only a very negligible heat buildup. This variant of the Fireball is often seen with external drop tanks of fuel to extend its battlefield duration.

B variant Fireballs are often used as short-duration high-volume attack platforms, particularly for pinpoint strikes against ground-based hardened targets. The Large Pulse laser in the nose is the craft's only laser, which is supplemented by a single ATM-12 and a pair of SRM-4 launchers in each wing. This configuration has enough ammo for about twelve passes at a target before it has to return to base for reload, though in the time it is operating the B variant is expected to be able to independently destroy at least two enemy assault 'mechs, and that not including bombs or missiles carried externally.

The C variant is something of an oddity among oddities, the bastard child modification of the strangest proportions. The Rotary AC/5 is a favored weapon on Dropships and Warships as a point defense gun where it can be used to intercept fighters and Mobile Suits with a lot of ammo sprayed in their general direction. On fighters or Omnimechs, it is often less preferred than an Ultra-10 or Ultra-20 Autocannon. The C variant carries two of the Rotary-5 guns, as well as two Medium Pulse lasers and two ER Medium lasers, giving it good capability to attack any kind of target, be it ground, air, or ship. It also has enough heat sinks to fire all its guns continuously, or at least until it runs out of RAC/5 ammo.

If ever a fighter destined to replace the Mechbuster conventional fighter, the Fireball D variant would be it. With a 135mm class-twenty Ultra Autocannon and thirty rounds of ammo, it is more than capable of outgunning the Mechbuster in a single pass what it would take the former two passes or more. This is also married to a trio of ER Medium lasers and a pair of Streak LRM 10 launchers, which are lock-on guaranteed to hit missile racks with no wasted firepower in their design. If this variant has a shortcoming, it is a small excess of heat if the pilot fires all of his weapons at once.

On the maintenance floor, the Fireball is loved by the mechanics and ground crew that services it. Refueling and ammo reloading are conducted by way of a series of ventral surface access hatches that automatically lock down when the craft passes a certain velocity threshold, and remain locked until unlocked by the maintenance personnel. It is possible to refuel and rearm a Fireball in five minutes even under hostile fire. Replacing the armor composite is a simple four-step no-weld process that can be accomplished in as little as five minutes per plate. Changing out weapons components is dead simple, all a mechanic has to do is strip off the local armor plate, unlatch the locking lugs and power/data connectors, and use an appropriate size crane or lifter exoskeleton to pull the component. The only snag is the airframe is a solid piece and cannot be modularly replaced; if the frame takes damage, it has to be patched and welded to specification, which is not a simple task if half a wing is blown off in space combat.

**Battle History:**

Much as was initially expected, the Fireball turned out to be a stalwart in the skies of the planets it cruised and a true knock-down-drag-out battle artist in space. Though there are fighters out there that beat it in every classification of study, few fighters are as well-rounded and frightening as the Fireball to face down in mass combat. Many is the battle where a ragtag of enemy air and ground forces who challenged the Magi were felled by the droves as star after star of Fireballs slammed the enemy formations from above, hitting harder and taking insane amounts of punishment compared to fighters even in their same weight bracket.

In one well-publicized early battle between the Negaverse and the Magi, a Magi fleet went head to head against twice their number in older-style warships, though the three Magi Phalanx-class ships had just been outfitted with full compliments of Fireball aerofighters. The Phalanx-class ships held off dispatching their fighters until the last minute, in fact waiting until the enemy fighter screen had approached to close range and was actually shooting at the ships. When the fighters screamed past the ships, taking a few casualties from the defense array on the three ships, the Fireballs launched literally right behind the enemy fighter screen. In less than two minutes the Fireballs had scratched the entire fighter compliments of two McKenna, two Sovettski Soyuz, a Texas, and a Leviathan II, a total of 480 enemy fighters against the 675 carried by the Magi warships. Seeing their entire fighter screen wiped out in 118 seconds flat, the enemy Warships retired with themselves having fired not even one shot during the battle.

**Variants:**

Being an Omnifighter, the Fireball can be so easily reconfigured in ten minutes that there is almost no limit to the amount of modifications that can be made to it. Any combination of up to forty tons of weapons, ammo, fuel, heat sinks, bombs, even artillery can be installed in the Fireball. This variability has made the Fireball beloved of the pilots and crews maintaining it.

One of the Magi's favored tricks for ground campaigns is to load a Fireball with six ER Medium lasers, five double heat sinks, four extra tons of fuel, and twenty-five tons of internally carried bombs inside the wings, as well as external stores. This converts the Magi's premier air superiority fighter into a veritable strategic bomber with some hold-out firepower.

It is also considered a legitimate modification tactic to remove half of the weapons pods in the craft to increase the speed significantly, as well as increase the ground-launch external payload capacity. In this case, it is possible for the Fireball to lift off with twenty tons of external stores, the absolute maximum for ground clearance on a runway takeoff as well as allow for a decent amount of internal-carried firepower.

**Notable Vessels & Crews:**

Gail Degge  
Gail was the initial test pilot of the first prototype Fireball, and being a career test pilot was a hard sell for the efficiacy of any craft, given that he had relatives who would be piloting such craft. Nevertheless, after fifteen minutes of yanking and banking he was highly impressed by the Fireball's handling for its size class, and on the craft's first flight had done two things unheard of. First, he proceeded to almost flawlessly do each of the normal acrobatic maneuvers, though he had some problems on the barrel roll due to not applying enough thrust. Second, he had launched with what would become the craft's primary weapons load, and proceeded to one of the Lunar Garrison's weapon test ranges. While approaching he had called for a set of targets, and in a move that turned heads he proceeded to obliterate a damage simulation target in one pass, which amounted to all the armor typically carried on a light 'mech and was a challenge for regular Omnimech pilots to obliterate in one fell swoop. By the time he got back to base, the Lunar Garrison's appropriation section was already on the phone asking 'how much for how much'. The Fireball he piloted that day would later become his as he purchased it from the company on a lease program with the company having the right to reclaim it for historical and engineering purposes. Gail would go on to use that first Fireball to write up the basic tactics of the Fireball, which are largely still in use as of this briefing.

Peter Wilcox  
Known as the gold standard of pulse-laser antics, Peter would later become the progenitor of the Wilcox eugenic bloodheritage for his innate skills in the cockpit and his meritorious service to the Empire. Using a custom variant of the Fireball with four Large Pulse lasers and a targeting computer, Peter is reported to have engraved a goofy smiley face in the side of more than six dozen enemy warships and countless smaller craft using his pulse lasers, as well as having done so to the side of a Magi McKenna-class captained by an officer that had royally pissed him off by attempting to force his way with Peter's girlfriend. During the calm after the Quarter War, Peter Wilcox would continue to gain rank and notoriety as his ever-expanding space assault force continued to gut the Negaverse supply corps and keep their assault forces harried. It was his assault on the captured Phalanx-class Warship Widowmaker that earned his place in the eugenics program. In that epic battle of five hundred Davids against Golaith and his support staff, Wilcox and his raiding teams closed up on the Widowmaker and her escort Monitors, and simply began peeling away the defensive layers one layer at a time, never slowing down and missing very little. In an hour's protracted fighting that saw the loss of over a third of his unit, Wilcox was able to force the Widowmaker to hoist a white flag or be sunk, which it chose the former.

Mina Barus  
Prior to taking up the mantle of being a Dendrobium pilot, Mina Barus and her twin sister were Fireball pilots. They had been rescued from a dismal existence flying the 'Atlas with Wings' in one rote unit after another rote unit, constantly on the move because they were constantly pranking their command staff and getting kicked out. Though plausibly deniable, their antics on more than one occasion were court-martial offenses, which they had been spared because the CO involved usually thought it was funnier than hell. Gerald Lightbringer had seen in their flying and fighting styles the perfect addition to his small cadre known as Angel Team, and they were dragged away from their Fireballs kicking and screaming (literally), only to be deposited in a hangar with a pair of factory-fresh Dendrobium Stamen Gundams and instruction manuals. Though not in the Fireball for some time, each of the twins keeps her own Fireball in pristine condition for those cases where they would have to use them, such as a necessary atmospheric sortie.

**Deployment**

Fireballs are the mainstay fighter of the Magi. As such, they can be found everywhere, including some redneck's back yard. Warships in particular will have clusters of the Fighters as their primary anti-air defense, since the Fireball is such a versatile and long-duration fighter it is extremely favored to the task.

BATTLETECH SPECIAL RULES:

A player may opt to remove up to 10 tons of mounted weapons and carry up to 10 tons more external stores, equal to the amount of weapon mass removed. Any additional mass gained beyond 10 tons is discarded, due to limitations of wing space. Note that while so loaded above the maximum external load, the Fighter may not perform any aerobatic maneuvers except a barrel roll. Any such attempt will result in an immediate control roll to avoid losing control of the craft; the maneuver automatically fails.

In space operations, a Fireball may carry up to 20 tons of external ordinance as per the normal rules, or it may carry more using this special rule set. For any mass up to double the normal carrying capacity, a Fighter is limited to half its maximum speed under full normal load. Anything beyond that, the fighter is limited to 1 point movement until the ordinance is expended. A fighter may not carry more than half its mass in external ordinance. Additionally, a fighter that is carrying more than its Aerotech-allowed maximum that attempts to enter the atmosphere of a planet must jettison ordinance over the maximum Aerotech value or it will go out of control on re-entry and burn up.

A player may use one of the above rules, or the other. They cannot be combined at the same time, as this creates an unsafe internal / external balancing problem for the aerofighter. However, a pilot may mount the usual amount of external stores for use in atmospheric operations, and mount up to the space-operations max in space-use ordinance.

The Pod Space available on a Fireball is 40.00 tons. A Fireball may not mount a Long Tom Arillery Piece, a Heavy Gauss Rifle, or a (Custom Weapon) Rail Gun or (Custom Weapon) Heavy Rail Gun. All other weapons may be mounted as usual.

* * *

**Class/Model/Name**: Fireball Prime

**Mass: **100 tons

**Const. Options: **Fractional Accounting

Equipment: (Mass)

**Power Plant: **400 XL Fusion (26.25)

**Engine Shielding: **.00

**Structural Integrity: **10 (10.00)

**Safe Thrust: **6

**Maximum Thrust: **9

**Heat Sinks: **19 Double (9.00)

**Fuel: **8 Tons

**Cockpit & Attitude Thrusters: **3.00

**Armor Factor: **408 Ferro-aluminum (C) (21.25)

* * *

Armor Value **(Standard Scale)**

**Nose: **136

**Left / Right Wings: **102 / 102

**Aft: **68

* * *

Weapons & Equipment:  
Loc, SRV, MRV, LRV, ERV  
Heat, Mass

1 Ultra AC/10 (C)  
Nose, 15, 15, --, --  
6, 10.00

Ammo (Ult AC/10) 20  
--, 2.00

1 ER PPC (C)  
LW, 15, 15, 15, --  
15, 6.00

1 ER PPC (C)  
RW, 15, 15, 15, --  
15, 6.00

1 LRM 10 (C)  
LW, 6, 6, 6, --  
4, 2.50

1 LRM 10 (C)  
RW, 6, 6, 6, --  
4, 2.50

Ammo (LRM 10) 24  
--, 2.00

1 Angel ECM Suite (C)  
Aft, --, --, --, --  
0, 1.50

C.A.S.E. System  
Body, 0.00

**TOTALS: **

44 heat

100.00tons**  
**

**Tons Left: **.00

* * *

Calculated Factors:

**Total Cost: **26,713,625 C-Bills

**Battle Value: **3,056

**Cost per BV: **8,741.37

**Weapon Value: **3,043 (Ratio 1.00)

**Damage Factors: **SRDmg 45; MRDmg 36; LRDmg 10; ERDmg 0

**BattleForce2:**

**MP:** 6N, **Armor/Structure:** 10 / 0

**Damage PB/M/L:** 5/5/4, **Overheat:** 1

**Class:** FH, **Point Value:** 31

**Specials: **omni, ecm

* * *

**AeroTech 2 Vessel Technical Readout**

**Class/Model/Name**: Neue Ziel (Upgrade) AMA-X2-U1

**Tech:** Mixed Tech / 3067

**Vessel Type: **Aerodyne DropShip (Mobile Armor, see below)

**Rules: **Level 3, Standard design

**Mass: **495 tons

**Chassis: **Axis Defense Industries AMA-X2-U1

**Length: **40 meters

**Power Plant: **Compact Thrusters

**Safe Thrust: **6

**Maximum Thrust: **9

**Armor Type: **Axis Defense Industries Ferro-aluminum (Clan)

**Armament:**  
2 Axis Beam Saber Claw (C)  
1 Axis Mega Beam Cannon (C)  
4 Axis Sub-Arm (C)  
4 Savannah Weps Ultra AC/10 (C)  
9 Axis Mega Particle Gun (C)  
4 Modaco Arms "Jawbreaker" Thunderbolt 20 (MR) (C)  
4 Winters Broadsword SRM 6 (C)  
4 Axis I-Field Generator (C)

**Manufacturer: ** Axis Defense Industries  
**Location: ** Axis Colonies (Old Terra)  
**Communications System: ** Axis Defense Industries SSC  
**Targeting & Tracking System: **Axis Defense Industries SSTT 

**Overview:**

In classic Magi fashion, that which is fought can be used against the enemy. The Neue Ziel is one such case of a weapons platform that was encountered and fought the Magi to a standstill in the years prior to the onset of the Star Empire Wars. After several clashes with Anavel Gato's famed mobile armor, the Magi themselves had enough information to begin building the armor themselves.

In the centuries to come, the Neue Ziel would continue to be the scourge of enemy shipping and naval forces, though with the ever-increasing power of mobile forces and the necessities of space warfare, an upgrade in more than just materials was called for by the pilots who commanded the venerable and effective Neue Ziel. Axis Defense Industries, which had been purchased out by the Empire, responded with the AMA-X2-U1, a mass-production upgraded version of the Neue Ziel that sacrificed nothing and increased its firepower against smaller targets.

**Capabilities:**

The original Neue Ziel was engineered for the purpose of smashing through fleets in space, where its beam cannons could be used to destroy a ship in a single volley. When applied to the technologies of the Star Empire navies this turned out to be an unrealistic goal, as even a humble Dropship may have enough armor and internal structure to resist that much abuse, much less the heavier Warships and Monitors. Attempts to initially increase the gross firepower of the Neue Ziel were successful, but invalidated the existing size of the ship and made it increasingly vulnerable to return fire from the Warships it was designed to counter. Though the extra boom was welcomed by the pilots, the thought of biting it from a Naval Autocannon conflicting with a Neue Ziel heading in a different direction from the slugs was less than welcoming to the pilots. Few of the first model were produced, and only one is known to have survived the initial fighting it saw, and is now a museum relic at Axis.

After much consideration and a few prototypes, the Neue Ziel Upgrade was born. Gaining only 45 tons of mass from its original counterpart, the new version makes gratuitous use of the space it has but requires a change of strategy for the pilots who drive it from the old one. The external appearance is larger and more menacing than the original, though the increased bulk is mostly from armor and it retains the same styling that caused Federal Forces pilots to crap bricks (and also Magi pilots when first encountered). This armor increase grants it almost thirty percent more protection over its original model. The extended survivability, when combined with the I-Field generators on the machine, make the Neue Ziel almost impossible for a flight of standard fighters to kill in a running gun battle, and the increased net firepower gives those same fighters plenty of reason to be somewhere else.

The main difference in armaments is not a difference in numbers, but dispersion of weapons. The original Neue Ziel carries nine Mega Beam Guns, four facing forward, five facing rear. The Neue Ziel Upgrade carries the same amount of guns, but six of those are facing forward and only three to the rear. This gives the pilot more than ample firepower to turn most smaller Dropships into flying salvage in a single barrage, especially when combined with the Mega Particle Cannon mounted in the armor's central axis.

The missiles from the original are maintained, all of which are capable of causing major havoc to enemy craft, though the net improvement for the Neue Ziel is a series of four 105mm Machine Cannons manufactured by Savannah Weapons, mounted forward to provide extended anti-fighter firepower. This increase in firepower has definitely left its mark on enemies over the years the Upgrade has seen battle, as more than one pilot has claimed a kill with these cannons against Mobile Suits and fighters, and even kills against Dropships and Jumpships with the cannons. This increase in firepower has led to the 'twenty-one shot salute' tactic, whereby a Neue Ziel pilot will fire all four of his cannons at double fire, both hip-mounted micromissile launchers (all twelve tubes) and the Mega Particle Cannon, all at point blank into a target. This tactic has been known to completely shred fighters weighing less than forty tons, and severely damage or cripple enemies up to twice that weight, even if some of the shots miss.

These improvements come with a price tag, and that not just in cost per unit. The original Neue Ziel had been engineered with the cooling circuits necessary to fire all of its guns at once, both forward and back, with no worry about overheating systems. The Neue Ziel Upgrade cannot fire its rear-mounted weapons at the same time it fires its forward guns, due to a significant portion of the cooling systems having been removed to make up for the added mass in armor and weapons and keep it below the mass threshold for targeting by naval-caliber guns. Most pilots consider this less than a trifle issue, as they prefer to face an enemy head on and with their biggest guns blazing, however more than one enterprising enemy pilot has taken advantage of this weakness in a pitched battle. To prevent this, an automatic disconnect has been installed whereby only a certain portion of the weapons may be fired by the pilot before his firing circuits are temporarily locked out until the cooling systems catch up with the heat.

**Battle History:**

The Neue Ziel Upgrade came as a rude shock to the Negaverse in its debut battles, where it was found to be up to a quarter more effective against enemy smaller forces and over half more effective against enemy shipping. Individually the Neue Ziel Upgrade is not a unit to be trifled with, as its combat record is matched only by the mission-variable Dendrobium and that only in competent hands. The few times that Neue Ziel Upgrade units have lost notably were in battles where the whole Magi side was hopelessly outclassed by their assailants. If anything, the Neue Ziel Upgrade is mostly known for Pyhrric victories, whereby it loses but does so while taking down a number of the enemies at the same time. Many tales and legends abound of ace pilots and their Mobile Armors taking apart forces far larger than their own in concentrated pinpoint assaults using the Neue Ziel Upgrade as a shock weapon to destroy ship after ship after ship while the enemy Mobile Forces are handled by the rest of the unit in question.

To date, the only effective Negaverse tactic against the Neue Ziel Upgrade is to counter it with masses of smaller units or to attack it at standoff range with barrages of Naval Gauss Rifles or long-range antiship missiles. The Magi tactic to counter the Neue Ziel Upgrade is to counter it with another Neue Ziel Upgrade, a Dendrobium, or a larger Mobile Armor such as a Big Zam or Alpha Azieru.

**Variants:**

There are few variants of the Neue Ziel Upgrade, and none of those are official variants. Most are simple weapons replacement variants, changing out combinations of the weapons systems for special purposes and/or removing armor to add more heat sinks. These variants, while slightly better under certain circumstances, are not considered officially approved and are unique from one machine to the next.

**Notable Vessels & Crews:**

Harald Leffet (Machine: Monster Magnet)  
Harald Leffet was, for lack of a better explanation, an oddball. He frequently slept on the roof of his quarters by reversing the gravity polarity in his room, believed there was a conspiracy on the part of aliens to fatten all of humanity up for eventual slaughter and serving as dinner, and even had his Neue Ziel Upgrade painted hot pink and the cockpit upholstered in pink fur ala bondage porno. Nevertheless, he well and truly earned the rank of Ace MA Pilot during the Red Blitz, using his mobile armor to singlehandedly sink over a hundred enemy transport, carrier and assault Dropships as well as countless smaller craft, fighters and Mobile Suits. Harry is also the only known Neue Ziel pilot to have a kill against a Leviathan 2-class Warship with the moniker Kraken, a ship which masses over four thousand eight hundred times more than his Mobile Armor and has the firepower necessary to completely annihilate his Mobile Armor fifteen times a minute. He brought down the ship by expedient of directly targeting only the engines at point blank with repeated shots while flying around behind the ship in random evasive patterns. Though his armor needed over a month of repair before it was combat ready again, he received the Order of the Triad for his accomplishment, the highest honor of the Empire's forces.

Ellone Deville (Machine: Beauty Of The Beast)  
Eugenic by birth, Ellone always believed herself to carry more than her fair share of combat detail and should act accordingly. Standoffish, haughty, and professional, she counted herself as having no need for a social life while a war was going on, and her service record proved it. With over five thousand kills on targets ranging from twenty to 85000 tons, Ellone was one of the most decorated Mobile Armor pilots of the latter years of the Quarter War. She also had the single highest personal reprimand count in the Techstrikers, bar none, courtesy of her acid tongue and attitude. It was rumored that she had mouthed off to the Emperor on an occasion where he was attached to her unit, and it is courtesy of that incident she never made any rank higher than Star Captain, though the Emperor claims no involvement in her lack of advancement. Her Neue Ziel Upgrade, which was retired to the Museum Of Naval Warfare in orbit around Strana Mechty (the planet on which she was eugenically conceived), was painted in standard matte gray with orange war stripes and zigzags across her armor plates. It was often said that those who got away from her fury alive were plagued by nightmares of the demonic war paint her armor was colored by.

Gerald Lightbringer (Machine: Archangel of Death)  
Arguably the most famous and infamous of Neue Ziel Upgrade pilots, Gerald Lightbringer made a name for himself by not being seen by the enemy, per se. The Archangel of Death was never seen nor recorded by a surviving enemy formation on the expedient of Gerald Lightbringer and the rest of his team, colloquially known as the Angel Team, having killed all the enemies in the vicinity. Tales of his exploits reach as far back on the calendar as before the Second Star League, before the Quarter War, and even as far back as the initial prototype testing of the Neue Ziel Upgrade, though all reports are unconfirmed and his codex has no mention of such battles. His Neue Ziel Upgrade has no recognized serial number on it, meaning that the date of manufacture of his armor cannot be verified. His craft has no flight logs, no black box, only a maintenance auditing program that keeps track of when parts need to be replaced. Gerald himself does not even have a listed age that can be verified by any person short of the Division Commander of the Techstrikers, whom he theoretically answers to, much less a declassified combat record. His Machine is painted bright white with dark blue trim, as is the other machines of the Angel Team, with the only identifier on it being his callsign, Angel Zero.

**Deployment**

The Neue Ziel Upgrade has taken the place of the venerable Neue Ziel as a replacement for fleet-carried mobile armors, and is considered an excellent compliment to the gold-standard Dendrobium units. The Neue Ziel Upgrade fits into the standard Mobile Armor 6 Bay with no issue, though quarters get a bit tight when it is fitted into the Mobile Armor Class 5 bays. It can launch from any stationary fortification Mobile Armor bay without issue, and can even take advantage of a Magnetic Catapult if one is available.

In an offensive posture, the Neue Ziel Upgrade is typically used as a fast-assault unit and as the beginning thrust of a breakthrough fleet action, where its massive firepower can be best used to cripple lighter units and harry larger ones and its maneuverability allows it to avoid enemy fire as best as possible. It is not uncommon to see Neue Ziel Upgrade pilots completely blow through an enemy battle line and circle around to strike from the rear or flanks while the enemy front is struck again by oncoming forces. In standoff engagements the Neue Ziel is used as a screening armor for longer-range units, as its firepower only marginally ranges to long range and has little to no involvement with extreme-range standoff bombardment.

In a defensive posture the Neue Ziel serves admirably as a long-range and high-power interceptor. The Neue Ziel Upgrade has four hours of fuel without a refill at standard speed, eighty minutes at flank speed, which well exceeds combat fuel expectancy of the average enemy craft. The combination of heavy armor and not one but four I-Field Generators gives it the ability to challenge enemy craft that rely on energy weapons on far better than even terms, making the Neue Ziel optimum for intercepting enemy Warships that are reliant on PPCs and Mega Beam Cannons, while other forces assault the remainder of the enemy fleet.

BATTLETECH SPECIAL RULES:

The Neue Ziel is considered a Dropship for deploy and combat rules, and being less than 500 tons is considered a smaller target for naval guns to shoot at. For transport purposes, the Neue Ziel requires a minimum of 500 tons of space for transport, though in such space constraints it cannot be repaired unless it is undocked from the ship that is transporting it. If issued 600 tons of space, it can be repaired inside the ship without issue.

The I-Field Generators each blocks twenty capital-scale points of damage from Beam Weapons, Buster Weapons and Mega Particle Weapons (Gundam universe) and Particle Cannons (Battletech Universe). It has no effect on Lasers, Positron Cannons, Flamers, or any physical ordinance weapons (missiles, rail guns, Autocannons, machine guns, etc). Given that the Neue Ziel carries four of the generators, it can block 80 capital-scale points or up to 800 standard scale points per turn. If this damage level is exceeded, any successive damage to the Neue Ziel from these types of weapons hits the Neue Ziel at standard effects. Additionally, for every twenty capital-scale damage inflicted on the Neue Ziel, a generator is discharged in that turn, and is not active in the following turn. The generators will recharge in the turn after they were discharged, and will be active again two turns after they were initially discharged. So, if two of the generators are discharged in one turn, the following turn only two generators would be active, meaning that 41 points of capital-scale damage from Mega Particle weapons would be needed to breach the remaining I-Fields. On the third turn, provided the other generators were not discharged, the Neue Ziel would be back up to full I-Field integrity.

The Neue Ziel and Neue Ziel Upgrade are space-use mobile armors. Despite being listed as Droipship class Aerodyne, they are completely incapable of atmospheric flight and if one enters the atmospheric interface it is considered to have burned up and is listed as destroyed.

CUSTOM WEAPON STATS:

Mega Beam Cannon: Considered standard laser, 5 tons, 25 heat, Maximum AT2 range of long. Attack value of 50 points standard damage. BV 1525, cost 2.5 million C-bills. This weapon cannot be mounted on any craft less than 150 tons, due to the power requirements of recharging it.

Mega Particle Gun: Considered standard laser, 4 tons, 20 heat, Maximum AT2 range of long. Attack value of 45 points standard damage. BV 1665, cost 1 million C-bills. This weapon cannot be mounted on any craft less than 150 tons, due to the power requirements of recharging it.

Sub-Arm: Considered standard laser, 1 tons, 5 heat, Maximum AT2 range of point defense. Attack value of 50 points standard damage. BV 105, cost 100,000 C-bills. This weapon cannot be mounted on any craft less than 150 tons, due to the power requirements of recharging it. This weapon can only be used against targets in the same hex as the firing craft, but can be used to intercept missiles per standard point defense rules.

Beam Saber Claw: Considered standard laser, 3 tons, 10 heat, Maximum AT2 range of point defense. Attack value of 100 points standard damage. BV 105, cost 3.5 million C-bills. This weapon cannot be mounted on any craft less than 150 tons, due to the power requirements of recharging it. This weapon can only be used against targets in the same hex as the firing craft.

I-Field Generator: Considered point defense weapon, 4 tons, 0 heat, Maximum AT2 range of point defense. Attack value of 200 points standard defense against Mega Particle Weapons, Buster Weapons, PPCs. BV 25, cost 4 million C-bills. This weapon cannot be mounted on any craft less than 300 tons, due to the power requirements of charging and running it. This weapon will defend only the equipped craft, it does not have the range to defend any units in the vicinity.

* * *

Class/Model/Name:

Neue Ziel (Upgrade) AMA-X2-U1

**Mass: **495 tons

Equipment: (Mass)

**Power Plant: **Standard (91.00)

**Engine Shielding: **.00

**Structural Integrity: **9 (22.28)

**Safe Thrust: **6

**Maximum Thrust: **9

**Heat Sinks: **132 Double (128.00)

**Fuel & Fuel Pumps: **(21.00)

**Bridge & Controls: **4.00

**Armor Factor: **1,008 Ferro-aluminum (C) (40.50)

* * *

Armor Value

**(Standard Scale)**

**Fore: **336

**Left / Right Sides: **252 / 252

**Aft: **168

* * *

Equipment & Options:

**Crew and Passengers: **1 Officers (1 minimum) 0.00

* * *

Weapons & Equipment:  
Loc, SRV, MRV, LRV, ERV  
Heat, Mass

2 Beam Saber Claw (C)  
Nose, --, --, --, --  
20, 6.00

1 Mega Beam Cannon (C)  
Nose, 5(50), 5(50), 5(50), --  
25, 5.00

4 Sub-Arm (C)  
Nose, --, --, --, --  
20, 4.00

2 Ultra AC/10 (C)(60 rounds)  
Nose, 3(30), 3(30), --, --  
12, 26.00

3 Mega Particle Gun (C)  
L/RW, 14(135), 14(135), 14(135), --  
120, 24.00

2 Thunderbolt 20 (MR) (C)(21 rounds)  
L/RW, 4(40), 4(40), --, --  
32, 44.00

1 SRM 6 (C)(60 rounds)  
L/RW, 1(8), --, --, --  
8, 11.00

1 I-Field Generator (C)  
L/RW, --, --, --, --  
0, 4.00

1 Ultra AC/10 (C)(30 rounds)  
L/RW, 2(15), 2(15), --, --  
12, 26.00

2 SRM 6 (C)(120 rounds)  
Aft, 2(16), --, --, --  
8, 11.00

3 Mega Particle Gun (C)  
Aft, 14(135), 14(135), 14(135), --  
60, 12.00

2 I-Field Generator (C)  
Aft, --, --, --, --  
0, 4.00

**TOTALS:**

317 Heat

494.78 Tons**  
**

**Tons Left: **.23

* * *

Calculated Factors:

**Total Cost: **1,614,277,224 C-Bills

**Battle Value: **22,287

**Cost per BV: **72,431.34

**Weapon Value: **16,194 (Ratio .73)

**Damage Factors: **SRDmg 793; MRDmg 352; LRDmg 101; ERDmg 0

**Maintenance Point Value: **MPV 16,920 (2,308 Structure, 960 Life Support, 13,652 Weapons)

**Support Points: **SP 3,150 (19 Percent of MPV)

**BattleForce2:**

**MP:** 6N, **Armor/Structure:** 17 / 17

**Damage PB/M/L:** 48/46/32, **Overheat:** 0

**Class:** DS, **Point Value:** 223


	2. Front Toward Enemy

(Chapter 02: Front Toward Enemy)

(Date: 1 June 2SL-12)

"Okay then, kids, looks like we still have the magic touch," Gerald replies to the other three training with him in simulation.

"That mean we're going to be busting chops on the greenhorns?" Wendy Barus asks. She was referring to the rest of the unit, since the four in the training cycle at this time were the best of the unit, and arguably the best in the Empire at their deadly art. Those that didn't call the Barus Twins 'the pranking bitches' usually called them 'Medusa Matriarchs', in honor of how lethal they were known to be.

"Now, now, Wendy, not all of the unit is completely green. Give them some credit."

"We can't win a sustained streak against the median of the AR-AB loyal units in simulation. If we can't do that, this pseudo-rebellion is fucked from the word 'go' and we both know it, old man."

"Thank you for the operational briefing, Mina. I'll keep that in mind while I grill your arse."

"What? Me?" Complete shock from Mina.

"By the numbers, you did the worst of us all in this one." Regardless of the sharp way of stating it, Mina had still managed an astounding 91.4 percent shot placement and no shortage of kills overall. Wendy was third with 93.8 percent, Kika at 95.7 percent, and Gerald at the insane amount of 98.7 percent. A bad day consisted of missing two or more shots in a row for these four pilots.

"Roger that," Mina replied. "Back to the hazard course firing range for me, I guess," she replies, which was an inside joke as well as a real training simulation. The Hazard Course Firing Range was an ace pilot simulation, few Elites could complete its rigorous regimen, and a veteran Mobile Armor pilot had no chance in hell of completing it and very little chance of surviving it. It was the ultimate skill-sharpening course, all the more that the course itself and the obstructions and traps were entirely random from one run to the next.

"All right, while Mina goes back to basics, we'll take on a theoretical against a covert, elite Gundam force under our tactics, as a defense for the _Mjolnr_ rapid deploy scenario. If we coordinate right, this should take less than Mina will on the hazard course."

"Kiss my ass, old man," Mina replies.

"It is such a cute ass, regardless," Gerald replies.

"Ready, boss," Kika replies.

The alert system activated _before_ the screens in the Neue Ziel came active. And it was not the alarm sound that was default for the sims, this was the ship's actual alarm of the _Mjolnr_, the song known as the _Imperial March_ from an ancient movie called Star Wars. It was distinctive, there was no mistaking the song for anything but a call to combat, much as was the songs _In the Shadows_ by The Rasmus, _10__th__ Man Down_ by Nightwish, and _Rip Out The Wings Of A Butterfly_ by HIM, among a long list of even louder and more powerful songs.

"Abort sim! Abort sim! Systems checks now!" Gerald orders as his left hand dances across his communications panel. "Bridge, Lightbringer, what the hell is going on?"

"We're at general quarters, sir, we have a force of unregistered Mobile suits coming out of the asteroid field we're parked nearby. No IFF we recognize, not even a subtype common to one of the Star Empires. This doesn't look good, sir," the Controller replies.

"How many?"

"If it's any indication, the computer is still estimating the enemy head count. And we've been watching them for a few minutes now."

"Good Gods, war of attrition," Kika notes on the same channel. "We have, what? Close to a thousand units? More?"

"More," Gerald replies. They were still counting coup, though the computer put the total at 150 Mobile Armors (mostly Dendrobium), 300 Mobile Suits and Gundams, 225 Aerofighters in the ship, plus the escort fighters and Mobile Suits in the monitors and carrier ships, there were literally over a thousand individual craft on the ship plus the ship itself. Which was about typical for one _Phalanx_-class operating alone. Larger formations tended to have less units per ship when compared to the lone wolves. Essentially, it boiled down to more firepower than the great Zeon Army could have mustered in the battles of Solomon and A Boa Qu, and by Magi tactics they could easily have taken both Zeon space fortresses.

"So now what?" Kika asks, staring forward at the vid-screens in her cockpit.

"We go to smoke them and enjoy it," Gerald replies. He tripped his message system that informed the bridge that he was ready to go.

"I'm in," Kika replies.

"Bridge, this is Lightbringer with three, ready to deploy, over."

"Lightbringer, you are on standby, " the controller notes. "We're still not sure if they are hostile or not," she adds.

"Roger that, but if we fuck around too long they'll crawl up our ass before we know it," Gerald notes coldly.

"How many people in this conversation you think doesn't know that, Century Commander?" Daisy (his assigned controller) replies immediately. The _Mjolnr_ had a total of 20 controllers, one per fifty units as per the absolute maximum allowed under Magi combat protocols, and all twenty of them got one hellish workout for their paycheck when the operations began.

"How close until we can type their units?"

"One minute at their present close rate," Daisy replies. "The way it sounds from the dedicated radar controllers, if one of yous got a miracle stashed up your butts, best you pull it out and preheat it. We'll probably need it before this one is over."

-x-x-x-

"Conn, Sensors, beginning typing enemy formation now."

"Conn, Radio Room, tangos have refused contact on all frequencies and a whole slew of languages," the Radio personnel says.

"I'm getting nothing, Star Admiral," Calamira notes, looking toward their formation off the starboard bow.

"You won't get anything," one of the Sensors operators replies from two meters. She was holding a printout toward the Star Admiral.

"Jesus H. Christ himself," Wayne says. "Raid, scramble everything, scramble it NOW!" Wayne shouts as he wads the paper up and throws it down on the floor. "Commander Ward, you have the Conn, I'm joining the battle. Draw them into a running gun battle and don't stop maneuvering, keep the forces tight. Calamira, keep me informed of any changes in the situation. I'll command the fleet from Altron," he orders.

"Aff, sir!" Commander Ward was one of those who did have pilot qualifications, but did not have the veterancy that Wayne did.

As the Star Admiral exited the bridge he began his run toward the hangar where his personal Gundam was stored and ready for battle. When he came out on the gantries in the hangar, he had to take a ladder down to the mid-level gantries then into the pilot's room to get into his pilot's armor. Two last pilots in his assigned star were just finishing getting into their personal armor set.

"Admiral? You're joining us?" Misty asks as he strips his shirt and pants off in a hurry.

"If it flies and shoots, it's going out there, no questions asked." Wayne says before he kneels down and worms his way into the armor. Once in position it closes up and begins sealing, a process that took typically thirty seconds. After it was sealed, he could move it nominally by the anti-gravity systems that were built into the armor.

"Ready to go, sir?" his assigned mechanic asks as he steps out onto the gantry around his Gundam.

"Aff, warm her up," Wayne says as he steps over to the pilot's bridge and then climbs into the machine. Once inside he immediately begins connecting and locking down the tether cords that held him in place inside the cockpit.

"All right, sir, we got her warmed up, fueled up, precharged and magazines topped off. Hope you're ready to kick some ass, Star Admiral, 'cause your machine is straining for it."

"I am ready," Wayne replies before he nicks a switch on his radio console. After hitting it, a prompt box came up, in response to which he plugged his codex into the radio console, which authenticated him to the main server on the _Mjolnr_. After that, he activated the ship's intercom system and C3I retransmit.

"Ready on 1MC, sir," the Ship's AI notes for him, which did not go out over the speakers.

"Attention all hands, this is Star Admiral Centara. Though this fleet was formed with the intention of bringing down the Admiralty Review, today we face a challenge of unknown purpose but blatant scale. Incoming toward this battle group at this time is a total of six thousand varied Mobile Doll units, including omnifighters, mobile suits, small craft, and Gundams. Today we face six to one odds against the soulless killing machines of yore. All units will deploy and prepare to fight off the incoming enemies as per nominal combat procedures for facing down Mobile Dolls. And make damn sure you survive, people, I don't want to explain what went wrong to your families."

Through the frame of his Gundam he could hear the cheering of his ship's crew. They were more than willing to oblige the Star Admiral in that respect, as he was more than willing to sortie to help make it a reality.

"Control, Star Admiral Centara in Altron, requesting launch clearance."

"Aff, Star Admiral. Come back alive," his controller orders. "Be advised _Hyperion_ is launching at this time, don't cat out just to fly into its side, sir," she entreats.

"Aye, Control, launching now," and Wayne launches through the double-chamber launch bay doors, that allowed the personnel to work on the fighters in atmosphere while still performing launches. Once outside the ship, he immediately moved to his star's designated guard area.

"Welcome to the firing line, Star Admiral," his winglady says. She was driving the Zephyranthes Full Vernian model, giving her a slight edge in maneuverability over the Altron, but not quite matching him in long range firepower and certainly not matching his machine in close quarters.

The one modification he made to his machine besides paint job (Royal purple over Magi Matte Gray with white highlights) was carrying a heavy launcher (1) and extra magazines, which gave him extra ballistic firepower that he would need when going against the enemy Mobile Dolls with planet defensers.

"All right, people, remember that with planet defensers, it takes a helluva lot of firepower to overcome the shield. Hammer on their shields or get up close and personal. And for Gods' sakes, do NOT slow down whatever you do," Wayne says, having off-and-on studied how to fight Mobile Dolls from wars past and common training regimens. The faster you moved, the less likely you would get hit.

"See, kids, this is what you get when you let the crack-smokers out on a day pass," Gerald notes on the command frequency. Wayne could distinctly recognize the white Neue Ziel Upgrade that he piloted as it closed up on his position with three Dendrobium Mobile Armors in tow.

"You know something about this one, Century Commander?" Wayne asks with a tone that suggested he was hiding something.

"Only thing I know right now, boss, our lives are about to get real hairy real fast," he replies. Wayne could not tell if he was lying or not, but suspected the Century Commander was not.

"Whoever these toys belong to, they ain't Magi," one of the pilots says on open frequency. "Only problem is, they got some of our equipment as well, like the MD Serpent and the Virgo III," the same pilot adds.

"It can't be the Admiralty Review, they'd be annihilated for using Mobile Dolls on another Mage formation," Wayne thinks aloud.

"It has to be an outside party," Gerald completes the thought, skipping over several steps in the process. "The only real problem is, who would be using our Mobile Doll designs against us?"

"No time to think, sir, it's about to start," one of the Dendrobium pilots asks.

"We will analyze later, Gerald. Let us start by winning this battle," Wayne orders.

"And once more unto the breach, for there is only one path to glory," Gerald begins the classic Magi lament...

"And only a thousand ways to Hell," Wayne completes the old lament; "well, maybe a few more of late," he appends after a moment.

"Wow, you're an optimist, Star Admiral?" One of the three Dendrobium pilots with Gerald asks. "I always thought we were approaching two thousand ways."

-x-x-x-

"Commander Ward, we are now in range on all capital missiles, Naval Gauss Rifles, Naval Particle Cannons, Larger Naval Lasers. We have solution," the Fire Control Officer, a Lieutenant, declares.

"Sensors, Conn, did we get anything out of the kill codes?" Commander Ward asks. The Kill Codes were what was deemed a final safety measure to prevent the Mobile Dolls from going rogue and being unable to be stopped. A friendly unit would put out a sensor sweep with an embedded code that would deactivate all receiving friendly Mobile Dolls, thereby preventing them from continuing whatever they were ordered to do. The enemies of the Empire never twigged to the code, since it had only been used once during the short lifespan of the Mobile Doll systems.

"Negative, nothing stopped, sir. They are completely off our net," the Sensors Lieutenant says.

Commander Ward sighed. This would be the first real battle of the _Mjolnr_'s history in almost a thousand years, though to what end they were fighting, nobody knew. "All gunnery stations, fire at will," Commander Ward orders.

The hull of the ship echoed with the sounds of almost a hundred Capital Missiles being fired, mostly of the improved Teleoperated missile type that turned a hundred capital weapon stations up and down the ship into a veritable video game of demolition derby. These were joined by the sparse Capital PPC weapons, which provided even more firepower than the capital missiles per shot and cost only energy to use. Immediately there were explosions in the enemy ranks, though after the _Mjolnr_ fired the matter was picked up by the escort monitors, each of which having their own arsenal capable to the task at hand.

_Mjolnr_ may have carried more weapons than some Warships weighed in at fully loaded, but the escort Monitors carried more arsenal per ton than the _Mjolnr_'s AI could dream of. After all, a third of the venerable Superdreadnought's weight was the massive Jump Core, which the Monitors did not have to suffer. The two Riga-class Missile Frigates each carried their own Capital Missiles, thirty of them that could be used at a tibe when facing broadside-on against the enemy, though the Riga existed more or less to do its dirty work at half the range it was firing at now, intercepting enemy Mobile Suits at closer ranges with standard weapons. The two _Flame Eater_ destroyers carried far less capital missiles, but made up for it with long-range lasers and naval Autocannons. Again, the _Flame Eater_ would be far better close-in than at range. Slightly better in a long range posture, the Sendai-class opened up with the Capital Particle Cannons, Capital Gauss Rifles, and Capital Lasers in volley, intending to completely erase quite a margin of enemy assets from the skies that were quickly becoming congested.

In this, the _Mjolnr_ and its fleet had a significant advantage of range, for the upper bound of the capital weapons ranges were over double, almost triple that of the enemy Mobile Dolls, who had sparse ability to strike a target beyond twenty naval hexes range, whereas the ships could fire out as far as fifty hexes, or even farther if the Teleoperated Missile controllers were smart about accelerating their missiles. The only downside to their strategy was the Mobile Dolls themselves feel no pain, no fear, do not panic, and do not relent. In one volley the _Mjolnr_'s forces trashed close to 150 of the enemy ranks, which amounted to 2.5 percent of their ranks in one stroke.

And still they came forward, unrelenting.

"Sir, Sensors final count shows enemy force strength six thousand Mobile Doll units of varying types, out of range still to subtype units," the Sensors Lieutenant says.

"Weps, continue fire. Controllers, send our forces in on them," Commander Ward orders.

"All right, you heard the boss, get the boys and girls to charge 'em down, keep the fire lanes open for the warships," the Flight Boss orders.

The word immediately went out on the command networks as the ship echoed to the sound of the next wave of capital missiles being fired. Even the _Guild II_-class cargo and transport Dropships were joining the fray, as each ship also carried its own trio of teleoperated capital missile launchers, making them very heavily armed transports for their size and duty profile. The Dropships were still locked into the docking collars, however, as they did not have the combat survivability to go toe-to-toe with enemy forces; though heavily armored, the Dropships really were not engineered as interceptors, and their extensive weapons grids were for point defense almost completely.

And in an instant, the just barely over a thousand strong _Mjolnr_ mobile forces took off into the hideous void between the ship and its assailants. Hundreds of mobile armors, fighters, mobile suits of many different eras of the Empire's wars, even a leavening of the Gundams went into the fray at full speed. The force would be enough to turn the stomach of any human force they were charging down, and for certain would give any rational force commander second, third, and maybe even fourth thoughts about the evolving battle.

And still they came onward, unrelenting in their programmed objective.

"Fates protect the pilots, for we can do little now," Commander Ward notes. "Weps, continuous fire. I want their owners to know how much these kinds of campaigns cost."

"Continuous Fire, aye sir," the Lieutenant in command of the weapons stations replies immediately.

-x-

"I start to think loud about retiring, and this is what Existence shovels into my face," Gerald notes as his Neue Ziel Upgrade begins thrusting in random jinking patterns. The Mobile Dolls were now close enough to begin shooting at the mobile forces, and despite his sarcastic tone he was very thankful that his armor was established with four I-Field Generators. Their beam cannons were doing nothing to his unit except causing momentary drains on his I-Fields.

"And this is where I'm supposed to say 'you are too young to retire' or something like that," Kika replies.

"Why, I did not know you cared so much," Gerald says as he begins sighting up and firing on the forward ranks of Mobile Dolls. Unlike the original Neue Ziel used against the Federation, these Mobile Dolls did not succumb to one shot of the micromissiles, in fact they appeared to be of a more recent vintage. Specifically, he watched one take a pair of the large missiles and suffer no ill effects except a crater in its armor.

"Hardened Gundanium armor, looks like," Kika notes as her first two shots, a pair of micromissile canisters with over a hundred missiles in each canister, flew through several dense patches of enemies while spraying their death in every direction. Though the missiles ended up striking over sixty targets, the amount of kills from her stroke could be counted on one hand.

"They copied our armor composites as well?" Star Admiral Centara asks. He had given up on trying to stay with the Dendrobium forces, as his Gundam was certainly not capable to the thrust that a Dendrobium or Neue Ziel carried.

"Appears that way, sir," Mina Barus notes as she closed in on the enemy formation fast. The speed she was moving with threw many of the Mobile Dolls off, but not all, and the beams coming in at her were blanketed as if the Mobile Dolls knew the Dendrobium was one of the greater threats.

"These shits are not dying easy today," Mina's twin sister, Wendy, notes as she closed on a cell of them with her anti-ship beam sabers deployed. She got two of them after brute-forcing her way through their planet defensers (by sabering the defensers) though at the cost of several point-blank hits to her I-field.

"And this is where I'm supposed to say 'grit your teeth and charge them down' or something to that effect," Wayne notes dubiously. Cracking jokes about how the movies portrayed the antics of battle was a favored passtime of the warriors, since the dunderheads that made the movies (still collectively called 'Hollywood') could really fuck up a junkyard in management terms, much less accurate reporting.

"Yeah, yeah, been there, done that, got the stitches to prove it," Gerald notes just as dubiously. His Neue Ziel Upgrade was well set for this task, as the four Autocannons and the myriad of missile weapons he carried would be preferable to trying to brute force their way through the planet defense shields, and ballistic weapons were unstoppable by either the I-Field or the Planet Defenser.

As the two forces closed and began trading shots all along the lines, Wayne began to notice something odd about these Mobile Dolls. They were not forming the defensive clusters that the Virgo series were renown for, they were simply advancing on line, aiming toward the _Mjolnr_ and firing at anything that acted hostile towards their ranks. This bespoke that the MD units they were facing were different from the standard production runs, they were the actual Magi rebuild Mobile Dolls that shook the Negaverse to its core until the Emperor had refused their usage in battle. To point, if he remembered Magi Mobile Doll programming correctly, they should begin a vertical envelopment of a numerically inferior force any minute now...

"Boss, they be shifting ventral and dorsal on our forces, sir," one of the Star Colonel under Gerald notes.

"What the hell? Only controlled Mobile Dolls do that—unless—"

"They are Magi Mobile Dolls, at least in construction and programming," Wayne notes.

"Now what?" Gerald asks in half-frustration.

"No wonder, these shitting things are actually shooting like they know how to shoot," an Alpha Azieru Pilot notes.

"Everyone change tactics, if they want to envelop us above and below, we squeeze out the sides and flank their own formation center," Wayne immediately orders, as it had been one of the few Negaverse tactics that worked. The other was for Negaverse units to replate with Reflective armor and the Blue Shield Systems, which significantly reduced the damage that Mobile Dolls could cause but made them supremely vulnerable to ballistic, missile and physical weapons. Since re-armoring his own formation in an armor plate that was damn near unheard of in the Magi ranks was not a possible solution, and Blue Shield had more problems associated with it than it solved, changing tactics was the way to go.

"Mobile Armor forces, I want a hundred forward, fifty top and bottom. We'll take the heat while the Fighters, Mobile Suits, and Gundams do the dirty deed on the flanks," Gerald orders.

"Galaxy Commander Rico, take a detachment of fighters and check out that damned asteroid field that these shits came from for a Warship or other carriers. If you find them, type them, identify nationality and sink the fuckers, clear?"

"Aff, Star Admiral," Rico replies immediately. "First Cluster on me, we're going hunting in an asteroid field! Second, third Clusters go left, fourth and fifth Clusters go right!"

Wayne joined the forces headed leftward while dodging through off-and-on fire directed at him. He even had to block two shots with his shield, the Mobile Dolls were that good in practice. Some carried the heavy mega particle cannons, others carried smaller beam rifles that were less powerful but had a higher fire rate. As he closed up on the enemy formation, he began with the twin beam cannon in the tail of the Altron he piloted, in such a fashion that while unlikely to cause casualties he was keeping them occupied defending from incoming firepower, which made things for the rest of the team easier overall. Altron was not meant for standoff combat, though he had added a Heavy Launcher to his arsenal to give him some range combat options so he did not have to chance getting close yet. If these Mobile Dolls really did follow the Magi standards of combat, they would have close quarters weapons and would definitely be able to use them as well as some of the Bladesmen could use swords of their own.

Wayne sighted up a pair of Virgo III Mobile Dolls and pulled the trigger on his Heavy Launcher, watching as first the one on the left took a dozen hits and lost both legs, then as the second hunched down its massive left shoulder plate and took the hits in what could veritably be considered its shield. The follow-up attack did not come from the Virgo III that Wayne had shot at, it came from a different vector and from a Serpent Mobile Doll variant, the twin machine gun scored several hits on his armor that failed to cause significant damage before he hammered out of its line of fire.

The Star Admiral could sense this was going to be a long, hard battle, as he immediately aimed to and targeted the Serpent with two of the missiles and beams from his tail cannon.

-x-

"This IS the Symphony of Destruction!" A Gundam X Divider pilot shouts as he closed up on the enemy formation in sync with the craziest-painted Altron he had ever seen (Royal Purple was not a normal Altron color). Where the Altron left off with the two Virgo III units, he picked up with the paired Raketen Bazookas he was carrying for his unit, an addition in firepower to the normal warship-grade Beam Machine Gun he carried and other assorted weapons. Both missiles connected on the surviving Virgo III, completing the job begun by the Altron.

"Excellent! More kills for my codex," one of the pilots from 3 Cluster, Rico's Marauders, says as he follows the X Divider in on the enemy. His Fireball G Variant had the prime weapon for taking down enemy Mobile Dolls, the much-feared Gauss Rifle that had the capability to bust through the chest armor and into the reactor compartment, where the slug could vent the plasma toroid to the outside world and render the machine inoperable. This he did as the X Divider broke off in pursuit of a Sabutai Mobile Doll, the Fireball pilot sighted up and snapped a shot off at a lone classic Virgo MD, and watched as the Gauss Slugs hammered it and penetrated enough to get the almighty MD Cookoff, which is what pilots often called a Virgo that had its reactor penetrated. The other slug had rather redundantly sheared the left arm completely off, sending it flying into another machine with minimal damage. "Hey, guys, they may have the hardened Gundanium armor, but the density's too low to be our latest revisions! These things are older machines!"

"No shitting way!" a Dom Funf pilot says as he enters the area that the Fireball had poached on. The pilot hot dogged around one group of beams, plowed through another group that were aimed at another target, and closed in on a three-pack of Virgo II MD units. As he passed through their Planet Defenser shields, he sighted up and fired on the right-side Virgo II, the massive giant bazooka rocket blowing the right arm and shoulder clean off the enemy suit, as his right arm reaches up to and pulls clear the heat saber that could chop clean through some Mobile Suits, and activated the thermal conductors within. As he closed up on the two remaining, one of them tracked in on him and pulled its own beam saber from under the shoulder plate, though it never had the chance to use it as the Dom pilot skewered the Virgo straight through the core computing area, causing the whole enemy unit to shut down in less than two seconds. The third enemy, facing directly away from him, died aborning as another giant bazooka round struck it in the rear and killed it off.

Unfortunately, it would be the last action of the pilot as a Kirghiz MD in variant B attacked it as the closest reasonable threat, firing into it the three ER PPC weapons it carried, followed by one of the LRM 20 missile packs it carried. Firing on the Dom Funf's rear right, the pilot was unaware that his doom was coming until the first PPCs hit, tearing into the woefully weak rear armor and connecting with the fuel bunker inside the back of the Dom. Though engineered for better survivability than had been built into the Zeon models, the internal protections were not engineered to handle a pair of ER PPC blasts at the same time. Instantly the fuel vaporized and then immediately thereafter cooked off inside the suit, blowing the suit in half. The LRMs were pro forma on the already mostly destroyed machine, but the control computer in the Kirghiz deemed them the most efficient follow-up attack until confirmed destroyed.

"Dude! That blows!" the same Fireball pilot half-shouts, having seen his comrade blown in half by the Kirghiz in question. It did not make it far, however, as the Kirghiz encountered and subsequently befell a Val Varo Mobile Armor, whose pilot slammed the venerable and thinly-armored Clan Omnifighter-become-Mobile Doll with the massive anti-shipping Mega Particle Cannon and the two anti-air beam guns all at once. The combination of hits was enough to penetrate the main body armor on the fighter, and in so doing found the ammo bunker for the five LRM 20 racks it carried. The fighter's CASE equipment blew out to protect most of the equipment inside, but in so doing the explosion channeled through the rear of the fighter also destroyed the engines, rendering the craft a mission kill. The Pilot's luck went dry fast, however, as a Mobile Doll fired on his MA while he was turning in on another cluster of enemies, and the shot seared through the cockpit and vaporized the pilot, armor and all. "Man, this is sucking bad! We're dying out here!"

"No shit, Sensei!" a Taurus pilot says as he flies crosswise to the Fireball in question, and sights up a smaller Visigoth fighter with a space laser. The heavy beam weapon, essentially a reskinned and easily maneuvered (and thus easily used) Medium Naval PPC scaled down to usable by a Mobile Suit, made very short work of the Visigoth as it blew the entire nose and part of the craft's wing off. The pilot maneuvered hard, as Mobile Dolls are programmed to react hard to the presence of such weapons and target them as priority, though the X Divider in the area threw the Taurus pilot an assist by cleaving the back out of two of the assailants with its heavy beam swords and a quick burst of naval-grade beam machine gun to a third to clear up the heat. A Kampfer MD that was tracking in on the X Divider was the next target for the Taurus, whose single shot missed it completely. "Fuck! X Divider, on your eight!"

"I see him—damn!" the X Divider takes a crippling hit from close range, the paired giant bazookas carried by the Kampfer MD made short work of its shield, left arm, and part of its left torso, though not before the pilot ripped into the enemy with a savage burst of beam machine gun. "Your ass, boy!" he shouts as he kicks the deceased remnant away from him. "Gundam Alpha-47 returning to base, heavy damage sustained," the pilot says as he turns and heads in for the _Mjolnr_.

"I got your six!" the Fireball G pilot says as he maneuvers to close up and pass under the X Divider. When under, he rotated his fighter so he was flying in one direction and looking in another, as he sighted up and fired the paired Gauss Rifles on another Virgo II machine. The slugs both struck the prodigious shoulder humps, neither penetrating far enough to get into vital internals, though the pair of shots rendered it impossible to use a beam weapon properly. "Aww, shit," the pilot notes as the same MD drew a beam saber with its left arm and immediately charge him down, the violet eye pulsing with mechanical rage as it tracked his fighter mercilessly. Only by the grace of the Taurus pilot hitting the target this time and blowing the Mobile Doll clean in half did he survive this time around.

"Hey, thanks ma—" the Fireball pilot never completed his thanks to the Taurus, as a pair of beams from older Virgo machines chopped into his mobile suit. A third beam contacted while it was spinning out of control, and blew through the cockpit. "Man, this shit is **bogus**! Who the fuck owns these toys?"

No answer came to him in time, before a Virgo II that had lost control slammed into his fighter, headed the opposite direction at an increasing pace. Both craft were destroyed in a flurry of sparks and vented engines, nevermore to be seen usable again.

-x-x-

"_Mjolnr_, Rico reporting, there ain't shit out here in these asteroids."

"Rico, Wayne, break off and bring it back to the melee, we need all the hands on deck we can get!" Star Admiral Centara orders.

"Conn, Sensors, our forces are getting chewed up out there! We've already lost a hundred units spread around all the formations!"

Commander Ward looks down to the deck on hearing that. Technically he was about to disobey the Star Admiral's orders, but he was not going to let his CO die out there. While that would inevitably make the Admiralty Review very happy, it would break far more hearts than were dying out here, today, and would die if the ship became heavily invested in close. He knew he had to do something, and this happened to be his best option.

Calamira beat him to the punch. "Getting ready to go in, Harald?" she asks, to which he simply nods. She nodded in kind, affirmation that he was not about to completely screw up the day. "Go for it, it is the best move," she says.

"Helm, set course to 1-7-0 against present, ahead one third. Comms, order all monitors and close escorts to follow suit. Systems, make sure our shields are ready for the shitstorm we're about to enter. Weps, you are authorized all weapons when in range. We're about to cut through their formation like a chainsaw, let's just make sure we don't screw this one up, people."

"Yes, sir!" the Lieutenants and Warrant Officers all shout. The Helmsman, Willy Jones, immediately enacted the turn request as the flight controllers began relaying the orders to the few units that remained close guard for the _Mjolnr_.

"Conn, helm, I show my course as 1-7-0 relative to prior bearing, engine at one third and accelerating. Estimate time on target zone is three minutes, sir," the helmsman notes.

"Helm, conn, aye. Weps, keep the pressure on, sensors track in on their heaviest concentrations, I want to know where to put our main assault at," Commander Ward notes.

"Conn, Weps, thirty seconds until we go live with our extreme-range point defense weps, fifty seconds and we go in long range weps," the Weapons Controller notes.

"Weps, Conn, aye," Ward replies. "Helm, cut forward thrust, turn broadside on," the Commander orders, since the greatest part of his arsenal was in the side arcs, turning broadside on would give him the best target profile. "Sensors, have the Mobile Forces begin sucking the enemy toward the ships. We'll have the Mobile Forces bring them to us, and we'll slam the door shut on their dicks."

"Roger that, sir," the Weapons Lieutenant replies.

"Conn, Sensors, all forces acknowledge pullback order. We should see them coming our way here in a few moments."

"Sensors, force status?"

"Us, 823, enemy, 3947."

"When this is over, we will find the bastards that did this to us. And when it is over, we will skewer their dicks on a pike and mount it forevermore in the courtyard of their _Reichstag_, as clear warning to the next ten iterations of their government that attacking Magi comes with far too high a price."

"What are they playing on the battle radio?" the Suborbital officer asks. Right now they were nowhere near a planet, so she was functioning as a sensor officer until she could do her job.

"Sounds like Metallica, For Whom The Bell Tolls, if I don't miss my guess," the Helmsman says.

"Conn, Sensors, enemy formation within range of our point defense grid...now!"

"All weapon stations fire at will!"

The colling systems that ran laterally down the sides of the ship suddenly kicked into high gear as the first of the point defense weapon sets began firing at the long and extreme range targets. Streak LRMs, Gauss Rifles, Large Lasers of both ER and Pulse variety, as the grid began firing heavily the enemy began falling in greater quantity. The Monitors had divided up and were now all on one side of the ship, screening the _Mjolnr_ from a direct assault on the enemy's part, which put them even closer to the enemy and had more availability to fire on them with their point defense weapons. In one wave, the casualties immediately began mounting on the enemy side, again since their weapons systems and defensive systems were uneven at best, making them easy prey for the Magi forces they were trying to destroy.

The nature of their primary objective became manifest as they closed ever closer to the Warships, as wholly half of them began firing on the _Mjolnr_ actively. This would prove to be their undoing, as the _Mjolnr_ was equipped with a larger and far more powerful Light Shell Generator than the Monitors.

-x-x-x-

"Hell yes sir, looks like the Commander has a pair after all," Gerald notes as the _Mjolnr_ began sweeping Mobile Dolls out of the skies by the dozen. Even failing half their shots, the _Mjolnr_ could eradicate hundreds of Mobile Dolls a minute. And the escort Monitors only made things even easier for the forces.

"I told him to stay back for a reason, but the added support in close is a good thing," Wayne notes. He had given up on trying to stay at range once an enemy blew his heavy launcher in half, instead he had closed up with dual beam trident and claw arms, taking the battle to the enemy with all his dueling skill. Wayne actually held the status of elite Gundam pilot in his own right, and in reality was an undeclared ace of close-quarters combat. Though not quite as skilled as the original Altron pilot, Wufei Chang, the improvements made to the Altron made the battle against Mobile Dolls all that much easier for him.

"The help may just save our asses," one of the pilots notes as he passes over _Hyperion_, headed for another part of the enemy line to help out there.

"_Mjolnr_, what's our status?" Wayne asks in a rush, having just brought down another Mobile Doll by way of impaling it.

"781 to 3252, enemy favor, Star Admiral," the controller he was operating under immediately reports.

"Bring the warships in closer, keep the pressure on. We may not be able to break their morale, but enough concentrated firepower will break them to the last man," he orders. Immediately thereafter he was on the offensive again, Altron attacking outward and at close range against non-close-capable Mobile Dolls like the Serpent and Taurus.

"Sir, keep it moving!" Wayne's systems immediately identified the transmitting unit as a Big Zam unit that was moving perpendicular to his course. As it reached a position the unit's commander estimated to be optimal, he fired off all of the circumference anti-air beam guns, and though most of them befell the Planet Defensers in the area, the one Mobile Armor just smoked eight enemies in one salvo and damaged two more. Wayne moved in on one of the damaged units as the said Mobile Armor continued with the Large Mega Particle Gun, giving him another three kills as one blast annihilated a cluster of Virgo that were tracking the _Mjolnr_. For the other that it had damaged, the 105mm Vulcans dispatched it as it sputtered, attempting to regain balance.

"Big Zam Three, this is _Hyperion_, be advised we are entering your operations area, over."

"_Hyperion_, bring it in, I'll lock you out of my firing arcs," the CO of the Big Zam replies.

Wayne got a good showing of why the _Sendai_-class was considered the reborn destroyer of yore, as its main guns were good for sinking ships but the myriad of smaller armaments were enough to cause serious damage to the Virgo IIM and Virgo III units due to the fact that the lasers bypassed the planet defensers. Much like the UESA (2) high-output cutting lasers, the ER Large Laser blew its way clean through the enemy Mobile Doll, though it usually took two or three hits to cover all the necessary damage to get rid of the Mobile Dolls if fighting a 'fair' fight against them. The Damage to thrust ratio was superb, and of course the Magi would picked up a collection of the Mobile Suits and Gundams, to further their understanding of the enemy and increase their own production capacities with any processes they could infer from the machining processes used by the enemy.

"This doesn't seem right, their units are bipolar in practice."

"Huh?" Someone asks on his command network.

"The units, they hit like our latest revisions, but they are armored two steps backwards in some cases, less or more in others," Wayne notes as he gets inside a planet defenser grid and applies the beam cannons on his unit to all three enemy machines. Satisfied they were mission kills, he moves onward and takes the fight to a Visigoth MD variant with his trident and claw arm, not even relenting for an otherwise usable Omnifighter.

"Bipolar or not, we gotta kill 'em all, boss," the same person asks, and this time Wayne could tell the person was a lady significantly younger than he.

"_Mjolnr_ from Centara for Calamira," Wayne prompts.

"Go, sir," she replies almost immediately.

"Anything?" Wayne asks, hoping she had some knowledge of enemy personnel controlling their fates.

The answer was seconds in the coming, which was more than answer enough for him before she confirmed it: "Nothing, sir. Not a damned thing."

"Blast!" Wayne shouts as his left fist comes down on the engine panel for his craft, causing a loud bending and creaking of the metal in question.

"We're winning, sir, or at least they are not winning, I'm not sure if you count that as a victory on our side," she appends to keep him from completely going apeshit.

"All right, all right, you win. Maintain the pressure, we'll eventually end up killing them all. Only question is, how many of us will be left to throw the victory party?"

-x-x-

If ever a case of a target rich environment, this was it as far as Argus was concerned. Thankfully, he piloted the right machine into the fray for this task. The Heavyarms Kai EW excelled at such a tasking, since the mostly-ballistic arsenal of the heavy fire support Gundam would readily bypass the infamous Planet Defensers, and when used right could even be used to intercept said shields just as well as they could intercept the controlling Mobile Dolls. Argus Deville needed only pull the trigger and wave it around in the general vicinity of the enemy, and he would get hits all over the enemy machines. As he hosed one group he changed target profiles and moved onward to the next target, maintaining a continuous presence of fire and just sweeping from target to target.

The fact that he was raking their formation also made him a prime target in their eyes, which was not something calculated to make him a happy shooter. He dodged several rounds aimed at him, but for his effort his Gundam's head and left shoulder were clipped by an errant beam from a Gundam Vayeate. There was no doubt about it, the focused beam of the Vayeate was as powerful as the original Wing Gundam's buster cannon, and a lot more focused for heavy-target penetration, and one shot from a friendly unit misplaced tore his Gundam practically in half. "Command, 3-Delta-27 is RTB, significant damaged sustained from blue-on-blue, over," Argus notes.

"Roger that, Deville, bring it home."

"I will cover," a Fighter pilot from Rico's Marauders swings by and begins applying the firepower to the enemy just as the Heavyarms Kai EW turns back toward the _Mjolnr_.

"3-Delta-27, this is _Thornheart_, bring it back along my port side for screening, over," despite the optimistic outlook of the Captain to the _Thornheart_, the ship in question had taken a beating and now would be paying for it out of his budget and the budget of the fleet.

"Roger that," Argus Deville replies immediately. Despite the leveraged cheery reply, Argus was still reluctant to quote odds on which of the ships would survive the day. It was a hard dictum, knowing that the maximum distances between one form of death and another were quite short, and often had the same causes when stacked against each other. Still and all, he had been born to defend the Empire (literally) and he had a job to do, which in this case was using his high-tech Gundam to get the hell out of dodge and get repaired.

As he flew down the side of the _Thornheart_, a _Flame Eater_-class Escort Destroyer, he could watch on the C3 systems as the _Thornheart_ picked up where he left off with alacrity. Using its massive array of both short-range anti-fighter weapons and the far heavier naval weapons of autocannon, PPC and laser types, the single warship took no more than two minutes to clear out fifty enemy Mobile Dolls, though at the cost of having its shell knocked down again and taking hits from enemy beam cannons. As each beam cannon had the effective punch of an Autocannon 20 in an energy form, the ship would take literally hundreds of hits per facing to breach the armor, and the enemy was running out of suits to effect that kind of battle plan. In fact, they were running out of suits to do anything except aid in sharpening the skills of the remaining Magi pilots on the field.

"3-Delta-27 to Control, what's the butcher bill looking like right now? And the op time?"

"All forces, status update, we are at 646 active units still out there whooping ass, enemy has only 410 left, almost all the classic Virgo and Virgo II units," the Controller says by way of reply. "Battle time has been 45 minutes, some pilots have already sortied twice since the battle began," she concludes.

"Jesus, we lost a lot today," Argus' system registers the speaker as Galaxy Commander Rico. His fighter passes above the ventral surface of the _Thornheart_, following up on the monitor's wild success with his ER Medium Lasers. His craft had run out of ammo for the monster class-twenty Autocannon and the Streak LRMs long ago, making his fighter almost completely useless in terms of operational damage but anything was better than nothing in circumstances like this.

"Galaxy Commander Rico, pull your fighter back and refit, you're down to knife-fighting an armored opponent here," Century Commander Lightbringer says as Argus makes his final adjustments to land on the _Mjolnr_. The Century Commander was the boss of all the Gundams carried by the Warship, and not someone a person casually ignored. It was often said that Gerald's record was far more black than the hideous void of a dimension without stars, and Argus had nothing to deny such a claim. Despite the beatings the Neue Ziel Upgrade had taken in the evolving battle, it was still flying and still fighting with the best of them out there.

"Aff, Century Commander, Rico is RTB at this time," the Galaxy Commander notes as he loops around and through the deceased wreckage of enemy and foe alike. On his pass through he snagged two life pods with tow cables, dragging them along with his craft toward the waiting _Mjolnr_. Argus switched his main screen over to a view of Gerald's actions, since he could land his Gundam on reflex mostly. Argus hadf to admit that the old bastard Century Commander had a flair with the Neue Ziel Upgrade, as he used the powerful grappling claws to capture and squeeze enemy Mobile Dolls one at a time, while using the remaining Beam Guns he had on his machine to strike more distant machines and overpower their Planet Defensers. No hesitation, no mercy; this was just another battle to Gerald, like any other he had fought.

The crowning achievement, however, came from an Alpha Azieru Mobile Armor that technically poached in Gerald's kill zone, using its one remaining arm and the funnels it carried (9 funnels in the standard Alpha Azieru) to lay waste to a half-dozen Mobile Dolls by shooting through gaps in their defensive shields. The strategic kills garnered allowed a myriad of far smaller Mobile Suits to get in on the remainder and mop up.

"That's all this is any more, just a mop up operation," Argus notes to himself.

"But I'll be damned if it wasn't hairy there for a few. I hear the Marines even got some action, shooting from the hull of the Warships with their long-range guns."

"A few, sir?" Argus asks of Galaxy Commander Rico. "That whole thing was hairy."

"We won, at least," one of the controllers replies.

"If you want to call this a victory, that is," Gerald notes sourly.

-x-x-

Long after the shooting stopped, a staff meeting had been called. Calamira, having not been directly involved, was the first one in the conference room.

Second to enter was Galaxy Commander Rico. His Aerofighter had been docked, undergoing rearming and refueling, when the enemy force had finally been completely annihilated. Star Admiral Centara had vented on the hapless Aero commander, though it was just as a way to relieve stress on the Star Admiral's part. There was no denying that Rico had done his job in spades, and even Calamira could recognize it. What fighter pilot swagger and arrogance he had had the day prior was not echoed in his demeanor today, for he had suffered heavily in the battle now past. Everyone had suffered.

Third in was the Galaxy Commander of Marines, whom Calamira did not get along with on any level except a precise professional level. He was the picture of the Eugenics program writ into physical form: eight feet tall, 375 pounds of pure muscle, even had the distinctive facial tattooing of the Enhanced Imaging Implants. He had worked on the battle as well, though his Marines were ill-suited to intercepting Mobile Dolls, the enemy had deployed battle armor infantry to try and board the ships. They failed, miserably, as the Marines went to work on them without reserve. It was an aside of the battle that Calamira was better off not having known about until well after the fact, for professional reasons.

Commander Ward had entered third, his duties completed with the docking of the final monitor. The flight controllers were will recovering surviving pilots and any usable salvage, of which there would be a large amount. Whole parts of fighters downed by they battle were being brought in at an alarming rate by the Marines and any Mobile Suits that were functional enough to do salvage work. It would be the Century Commander of the Defensive Armor forces that had the final butcher bill, but Calamira already know that far too many persons had been lost in this one battle. Commander Ward simply reinforced her sinking feeling with a sour look.

Star Admiral Centara entered three minutes later and immediately moved to his normal spot, which was one seat immediately to the right of Calamira and at the head of the table. Immediately Calamira got a whiff of the Star Admiral, and it was not all that pleasant. He reeked of sweat, gun propellant and burning electronics, as during his battle the Star Admiral had taken several hits that caused some of the electronics in his machine to short out. Despite the Pilot's Armor he was wearing, some of the stench of friend computer processor had followed him into the conference room, though Calamira suspected part of that was creative on his part. So far, Wayne was a serious guy in general but he did have a flair for the dramatic, and smelling like the south end of a fried computer would strike him as 'appropriate' for the mood here, unless he had been operating without a set of Pilot's Armor (which would make him crazy, not dramatic).

The Chief Engineer and the Star Commodore of the Monitors both entered at the same time, likely having had their own side conversation before entering. The Chief Engineer was looking dazed; the Star Commodore, grim. The look he gave the Star Admiral was enough of an explanation why, of course. Even the Monitors had taken a beating during the deploy operations, which would make things even more sensitive and risky if they waited around for the enemy to come back for seconds. Calamira definitely was not on speaking terms with the Star Commodore, but she still had to deal with him on a professional level.

The persons around the room traded info nervously, waiting and eying the door with trepidation. Each of them had bad news to report, but the final butcher bill would be in Gerald's hands. It would be his forces' status that determined the fate of the fleet, and not necessarily the other parties.

When the Century Commander finally entered the room, it was with a startling hissing sound of the door opening and the other soldiers in the room immediately looking to him. There was little to no explanation needed, the look on his face was answer enough for most of them, though before the questions began he came to attention as was proper to acknowledge his superior in the room (Star Admiral Centara and Calamira), then took his seat at the table.

The question de rigeur came from the Marine, of all persons. "How bad we screwed, sir?"

A quick sigh from the Century Commander. "Per the Star Admiral's request, I ain't going to bullshit this one. We're fucked. Between all four branches of our mobile forces, the MS, the Gundams, the Mobile Armors, and the Fighters, we've lost a grand total of 41 percent of our mobile compliment. They hit us again, we won't last fifteen minutes."

"Ain't that a bitch," the Star Commodore notes.

"A cold, hard one," Star Admiral Centara closes down the grumbling in a hurry. "What did we get in return for losing close to five hundred of our units and innumerable pilots?"

"Final tally, slightly more than six thousand enemy Mobile Dolls," Calamira notes.

"Over a ten to one kill ratio," Rico says immediately thereafter, which thought made everyone happy. Getting kill stats like that always made people feel very happy, it meant that they were the baddest mo-fo's on the block and the competition just proved it.

"Did anyone find a command or control asset?" the Star Commodore asks.

"Neg," Rico says. "We got jack-shit in the asteroids."

"No assets around the enemy battle lines," Gerald says.

"No manned MS on the sensors," Calamira says.

"Huh, that is really weird," Wayne notes. "Normally Mobile Dolls do not operate autonomously, there is almost always some form of control asset in the area, even if it is just a MD carrier. Strange as hell."

"And we killed them all, but..." Calamira notes.

"All right, people, I want to hear your thoughts."

"We need to get lost. Literally," Calamira fronts.

"Concur," Gerald amplifies. "We hang around here for seconds, we're screwed without the obligatory reach-around." Calamira grimaced at his phrasing, but said nothing. She was not going to argue semantics with someone who was likely far, far older than she.

"Any dissenters?" Wayne asks. Nobody opined against. "Recommendations?"

"Class three jump, head backwards and repair, then back forward and alert the fleet that someone is out here sticking their crank in our business again," Galaxy Commander Michaels, the GC of Marines for the formation, replies.

"Ain't this the same way the first Star Empires Wars started?" Rico asks. History class was over two decades past for him, he had been flying for the Empire for that long.

"Aff, it is," Gerald says. "Someone sacked one of our Orbital fleets when it was out on maneuvers, and we know who that someone happened to be. Oops."

"It goes without saying who that someone was," Calamira says. "I concur with the fronted Oplan, sir, the only safe location right now is outside the normal paths."

"After pissing in the Admiralty Review's pool, we can't just put into dock and get repairs somewhere, regardless of what happened to us," Gerald notes. "They'd still take that time to try and kill us off or have us arrested."

"Very well," Wayne replies, having considered both possibles. "Calamira, please issue orders to the Jump Controllers to plan for getting us to the gone. I want us so far off the beaten path that God himself would be hard-pressed to find us."

"Aff, sir," Calamira replies as she stands up. She knew what she had to order them to do, even though she absolutely detested it.

"As to the rest of the personnel, I want this ship locked down for jumping by the book, but I also want as many hands as possible out there bringing material in for salvage. We just slagged down six thousand plus Mobile Dolls, averaging 60 tons apiece, that is a helluva lot of salvage. Get as much of it in here as possible, if we even get a fraction of that we are doing good. Also, prioritize recovering our lost armor units and fighters. We may need them sooner rather than later, and we have a lot of ejected pilots with no machines. We need to get them flying again ASAP."

"Aff, sir," Gerald says as he stands.

"Get to it, gentlemen," he says as the door slides shut from Calamira's exiting the room. "We don't have all day here."

"Aff, sir," Star Commodore Michael replies. He was not the first or the last to leave the room.

Wayne waited until the doors closed automatically again, sealing him into the conference room alone...or not alone, depending on one's point of view. "Out with it, comrade."

The Warship's Artificial Intelligence Entity finally broke her silence. "We took a hellish beating for our efforts, sir. I'm already receiving detailed reports from the techs, the units and the other ships themselves, and the repair costs are rapidly approaching one billion C-bills, not including replacement of destroyed units or salvage being brought in."

"That much, is it? Impressive, for bipolar MD units they did very good for themselves. What did we kill of theirs?"

"Close to 8 billion C-bills, maybe more," the AI replies.

"We really counted coup on this one, but the price is too high for what we got. Too high," he echoes.

"It cannot be helped, sir. They hit us too hard, too fast to call for reinforcements."

"And what is your opinion on my decision?" Wayne asks.

"It is the only viable solution, sir," she replies. "We stay, they kill us off, we dock for repairs at one of our stations, the Admiralty kills us off. Screwed if we do, screwed if we do not. At least jumping backwards in time as well as off the normal area rotations gives us a chance to fix ourselves up, especially if we can raid an asteroid field for extra material. In theory, if we work long enough we can rebuild and upgrade our entire mobile compliment."

"Pilots would be the problem, though," Wayne replies. Not that there was a lack of personnel on his ship, but having personnel on the ship and having pilots in the craft were two grossly different things. The other side of that thought was that he had one possible child trainee on the ship for that, but she definitely would not be ready for the duty for another few months. Where other Phalanx-class ships had as many as 200 children on board riding along with parents, the _Mjolnr_ only had six and a partial (a weapons technician that was pregnant).

"Aff," the AI replies simply.

"All right, opinion time," Wayne notes after a brief silence. He did not consider it strange that he would ask the opinion of the ship on matters, especially pertaining to the fact that the ship itself was going to be in harm's way a helluva lot more in coming months, if he did not miss his guess. Some other ship's captains were grossly unwilling to deal with their ship's AI in such a fashion, and some were somewhat indifferent on the matter. "Why did they do it?"

"Simple. No appreciation of history, like usual," the AI replies.

"Explain that, please," Wayne requests.

"Basically, it comes down to two possible military issues, one political, and one historical. First, the enemy may have misgauged the power of our fleet and just debauched over sixteen galaxies of Mobile Dolls on us, with very limited gains." The AI fronts as a possible.

"In that case, the enemy CO is likely already dead from a self-inflicted gunshot or knife wound," Wayne replies, knowing that he would not go back to the Empire after incurring that kind of grievous loss on the touman.

"Second possible, they were playing a very one sided war of attrition, with a total ratio of 12.76 units on their side per kill on our side. That's really not an efficient way to win a war, all things considered."

"No fooling, comrade. Of those two, I think I like the former as a military solution, I don't think anyone would readily pay such a price to win a war against us, we're actually fairly low on the fighting charts for the Empire's fleets, their cost is going to get a helluva lot higher if they start attacking more fleets."

"Worse, the cost is going to get astronomical if they start attacking ground forces like that, they can expect 30-to-1 or 40-to-1 kill ratios if they start attacking our planets." Wayne knew her calculations were predicated on the fact that there is nowhere to hide in space, but on the ground a force can be dug in and concealed, making it very hard to knock out. "And, this brings us to the point that someone is now at war with the Empire again. We don't know who, but after this stunt, it will become a full-blown interdimensional war soon enough," the AI concludes.

"Casus Belli, a reason for war far more direct than an outright declaration," Wayne notes. The Star Admiral had an appreciation of history like few others, since knowing what had transpired in wars past often helped gauge the wars to come. In this case, the circumstances replicate the depredations of Germany in WWI on Terra during the 20th Century, sinking neutral and uninvolved shipping eventually precipitated America's involvement in the war. It could also be considered close to the incident at Pearl Harbor some years later, where the Japnese assaulted the naval base and ships there, in an attempt to cripple America's navy and force them to accede to Japan's demands. They failed grossly, and within four years the war was resolved on America's terms.

"It is a classic scenario, Star Admiral, that also blends well with the historical point in question. Taking as example Japan in AD 1940s Terran History, they assaulted the American naval base at Pearl Harbor in an attempt to force America out of the naval running in the Pacific so they would have a free hand of their own on the western Pacific rim. They failed miserably by not sinking the American carriers, but they failed on another level entirely. Their leadership did not realize that they did not have the manpower or technical savvy to face off against the United States in any fashion. America in the 1940s was a very patriotic nation, equally the rival of the Star Empires in that respect, and a surprise blitz against Pearl simply pissed off the whole country. It is not unlike the Quarter War was for us: one great affront is all it took to begin a cascade of events that ended up cripling the imperial ambitions of our foes."

"And whoever just jumped us does not pay attention to the history books," Wayne replies in kind. "If I remember correctly, there is a dictum that my Military History professor once told me that applies to this: 'every war started since the industrial revolution on Terra has been started by the party that ultimately _lost_ the war' if I remember correctly."

"Aff, Star Admiral, there is a whole litany of evidence to support your claim. World War 1, started by Austria, said country ended up hamburger. World War II, Nazi Germany starts it, flattened by Soviet Russia. Afghanistan in the 80's of the same century, started by Russia, the Soviets bled for ten years before they gave up and their empire collapsed. Persian Gulf war, same century, started by Iraq, they got their whole military flattened. The One Year War between the Zeon and the Earth Federal Forces, Zeon started it with a colony drop, they lost it all in the last weeks of the year. Stefan Amaris started a war to usurp the Star League throne in the Inner Sphere timelines, he lost when General Kerensky came by and kicked his arse hard enough to break his back. Same timeline 200 plus years later, the Clans invade the Inner Sphere on the bleatings of the Jade Falcons and the Smoke Jaguar, the Clans lose when the Federated Suns in particular and the other nations in general counter-invade the Clan homeworlds. And I don't think I need to mention the Star Empire Wars, for we know who started that and who ended it and how bloody it was."

"Message received, comrade," Wayne replies. "So, in essence, starting a war is a great way to lose a chunk of your army."

"More than that, sir. Modern practices of warfare, even our 'clean' fighting, lends itself well to collateral casualty. Start a war nowadays, expect economies and industries to get blown to hell, much less the political and militaristic ramifications."

"Well, that leaves only one question," Wayne notes wistfully.

"Two, sir. Who, and how badly did we just inflict damage on their touman," the AI replies.

"Someday we will know," Wayne notes as he stands up. "Some day."

"For today, we will rest," the AI replies.

The jump Klaxon sounds. "Attention all personnel, begin lockdown for non-standard jump. One hour until jump at this time. That is all," Commander Ward orders over the intercom.

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

And here is where the revision meets the original. On the original, I did not show the battle except in passing briefing. This time around, since I am a lot more confident writing mobile forces battles (and even pretty good at doing random result battles, like you see several times here) so you get to see the totality of the engagement that sent the _Mjolnr_ packing...right into the thick of someone else's war.

For those of you who are new to the Jokers Wild series, I will state that this does actually belong in the Gundam SEED section for very good reason. Personally, I advise you don't spoil the action to come by reading through the original Jokers Wild, but if you then heed my warning: As I have shown here, a lot will change as I do the full rewrite, and the action of those battles prior will only get more frenetic, more bloody as my writing goes on. If you want to see what I mean by the terms 'serious bloodletting' then when you get to chapter eleven of the Flight of the Jokers Wild series, then read through The Inferno That Is Chicago, which is basically a straight battle fic. I have been accused of being really bloody in that story, and for good reason.

On a writing note, I am planning on cramming one or two (or more) chapters of the original fic into a single chapter of the revision, which will give me more room to expand on the original concepts, introduce greater detail and plot than I was able to show at that time. With each original chapter registering in at 4000 words or so, doing that should be fairly simple and with a net improvement in plot flow. Keep in mind that while I will be following the original flow, I will not be copying the old chapters word for word. That would just be wrong. Expect a lot of change in what was versus what shall be.

Also, expect much improvement on the original, but expect much extension over the original as well. I stopped the original more or less at Phase 50 of GS, and I had much more in the way of ideas to go, so now I am going to execute those ideas. I am not entirely sure where all I shall be going with the post-war section, but I will be staying fairly true to my original set in Legend and Flight. Also be advised that the third section of the Jokers Wild, Fury, is in the works at this time, and once I clean off some of the stories on my plate at this time i will begin the final write-ups on those chapters and begin posting.

As always, if you have any suggestions, questions, comments, flames, etcetera, feel free to drop me a review. I take criticism well and I listen to the readers.

Next up: the ship jumps, and finds itself in a less-than-pleasant corner of space. What's a poor sod and his fleet to do on days like these?

* * *

Review Replies: Three reviews for the pilot, that's helluva cool! Thanks guys!

**One-village-idiot**: Thank you for the compliment, comrade. I aim for plot, the pointless drabble is not what I write. As with this chapter, there will be TRO sections after each chapter, with full fluff and all that. However, the Mjolnr's stats are a bit of a ways off, as the ship does not factor hugely into the battles until much later, sort of as the big surprise for the OpFor when they least expect it. Rest assured when they really factor in they will get their due props, and you guys will get your hard numbers and history.

**Deathzealot**: Thank you for the review, comrade, and a pleasure to be back and kicking (major portions of arse, of course). The class of Warship called monitors are basically Warships without jump engines. As FraserMage pointed out, they are semi-official and level three, there are no tournament-legal Monitors whatsoever. I prefer Monitors for applications where I need a warship's firepower but don't need a full-size Warship doing the job. As shown here, they also make excellent escorts for other ships, providing another ship for stalking the enemy, a helluva lot of firepower, and their own mobile forces compliments. The one major downside to a Monitor is their prohibitive cost. See the TRO below for the _Flame Eater_ ships for full details. And for the record, I always intended six monitors for the Mjolnr, but I never properly stated that or showed the _Flame Eaters_ in action.

**FraserMage**: Thanks for the review and the compliment. And below in the Logic section is the main differences between the Technical Revision levels R3 and R5, and an example how they would affect Battletech play. Note that under the best of circumstances, the distance between revisions is very significant and requires a lot of scientific research, though like technology in Battletech progress is uneven at best. There will be far more progress as the story continues, however.

Once more, thank you for the reviews. The nightmare continues unabated, the _Mjolnr_ is headed well into harm's way and will definitely suffer some ass-kicking in the battles to come. Stay tuned, and keep those reviews coming. Your dreams are but drops of fuel for the ongoing nightmares.

* * *

The Gripe Sheet:

No gripes outstanding right now. It is always a refreshing feeling to do it right the first time.

* * *

Footnotes:

(1): Heavy Launcher is a combination weapon with a four-barrel machine gun (65mm) and four missiles built into it. Used by one of the Gundams from the UC Era, I can't remember which offhand. Typically carried by close-range combat machines as a stopgap fashion to give them some medium-range combat efficiency.

(2): **U**nited **E**arth **S**phere **A**lliance, primary planetary government of the AC Era (Gundam Wing) until the Romafeller Foundation usurps power.

* * *

Logic And Reason:

Today's discussion centers around the Technology Revision system and standards, and how they affect the battles and story. Thanks to **One-Village-Idiot** and **FraserMage** for the question, I should have realized this would be one of the first on the chopping block. I will warn my readers on this one, this information gets very technical very quickly. Not for the weak of stomach on such subjects.

When looked at from a distance the Tech Revision (**TR** or just plain **R**) standards are fairly simple, but how they are derived is not. Over the flow of time, technology will improve drastically, so long as the means by which it advances is not slowed down by outside factors. On the flip side, it is that advancement that creates disparity between older technologies and newer ones, even inside a fairly homogeneous group like a Star Empire, and invariably somewhere devices will get left behind without being upgraded. A drastic show of this was the recharge station that was two revisions behind the present standard.

The revisions basically boil down to materials sciences, electronics, computing power, engine or motive systems, and extended features. Classifying the Revisions is actually fairly simple and direct, though the gap between revision standards increases geometrically. Revision 1 devices are pre-Nuclear Age devices on Terra, the cutoff is generally considered 1960 AD. Revision one material sciences are of the oldest nature, mostly relying on carbon-laced steel as an armor composite and construction material. Electronics were of the bare minimum in and around this time frame, where computers were whole-room affairs to calculate simple formula. Computing power was minimal or less, and extended features were nonexistent. Motive sciences were somewhat ahead of their times, with the ICE engine prevalent and some strides in jet or rocket engines, though these first models were highly inefficient. In particular, the Infantry, being one of the major gauge of the advancing eras, operated almost completely unprotected from enemy fire and more often than not carried a single-shot non-automatic weapon, or prior to that sometimes relied on close-quarters blade combat.

Revision 2 covers everything from 1960 up to about 2040, and while a reasonable person would say that there is a huge disparity between 1970 and 2005, just for example, when looked at from the sands of time the differences are minor compared to some of the stellar jumps of the next eras. Material Sciences took a major improvement, where the armor composite moved away from solely steel to composites and laminated armor systems capable of stopping trauma-based penetrations. Electronics became preeminent in everyday life, computer systems shrunk down to handheld units capable of doing massive complex equations on their own (though slowly). Trans-global and short-range planetary communications became a simple matter of satellite routing for the communicating parties. Engine sciences took drastic improvements as the first alternative engines began seeing use as well as vastly improved efficiency for aerial engines, with the ability to use reusable space flight craft having come into its own during this era. The value-adding extra features of the day are automated systems that take much of the manual burden out of the hands of the workers or operators and allow them to focus more on the larger picture, and this is even evident in some ways in military applications. The hallmark of the revisions, the Infantry, became a force to be truly reckoned with as their survivability increased dramatically and their firepower even more so. The average in Infantry carry enough firepower to be a threat to ten or more soldiers of prior days, and even can be outfitted with weapons capable of threatening low-flying aircraft and hardened targets on the ground.

Revision 3 is the first major drastic improvement over its forefathers. Material Sciences took a huge leap forward, as emergent technologies in weapons rendered even the composite armor systems of yore to be practically useless as a defensive measure. The introduction of combat-scaled laser systems and reloading missile weapons in particular changed the focus in combat from single-hit single-kill to having to really hammer on a target before it folds, since the improvement in armor allows for ever-increasing protection to armored units. Electronics power and simplicity increased a bit, to the point of what would otherwise be done with a manual method having an automatic counterpart. Computing power and flexibility has taken several leaps forward as of the third revision, and is in part the main reason why JumpShips and interstellar travel are possible technologically. Though ICE Engines are still in use, the fusion engine, one of the major hallmarks of this era of technology, has come into its own and is commercially available for a hefty price. The major added bonuses of Revision Three technology are space and interplanetary travel, though the first Jumpships capable of interdimensional travel were Revision Three machines. The first Battlemechs and Mobile Suits were built under this standard, and have steadily improved over the years.

Revision 4 became a standard during the Star Empire Wars, and highlighted the disparities between the six Star Empires to a tee. With the advancing of technologies over the intervening thousands of years, improvements rocked both the battlefields of the blossoming war and the civilian markets, as materials and resources became cheaper, easier to manufacture, and mostly more common for any given task. New alloys were prepared, synthetic materials advanced as forms of zero-G processing and forging allowed for increased material densities and zero-G mining became truly prevalent for both ensuring the safety of a planet and as a resource base. It is often said that a one-meter steel bulwark manufactured under Revision Four could withstand the main cannons of the best tanks manufactured on Terra before space travel became possible. With the advent of multi-directional processing and mass-scale distributed processing, the ability for computers to literally out-think the tasks they were assigned became a reality, making the battlefields even deadlier than ever before and the civilian fields even more productive and straightforward. In terms of engineering, the engines that run the Empires really took their first major leaps forward in this era, due to increases in material sciences and superconductivity that better transferred waste heat out of the machine and allowed increased transmission of power. The ability for a compact car to make several transits around a planet non-stop on a few grams of water made headlines on planets that it was done on. In these troubled yet advanced times is where the Gravitic Lattice came into first use, allowing for artificial gravity throughout space ships and reductions in the apparent weight of objects, reducing the necessities of carrying larger and more powerful myomer systems to cover the additional weight. In this fashion, the heaviest Infantry armor became the de facto standard, capable of withstanding sustained direct fire from Battlemech weapons, something that armor engineers had been struggling with for hundreds of years, let alone the arsenal restrictions brought upon by weight restrictions.

Revision 5 systems and architecture took its first form mere years before the end of the first Star Empire Wars, and the advantages proved decisive in ending the war on the terms of the Magi. The first forays into nanotechnology allowed for increasing material density and structure that created materials so hardened that even the best weapons engineered before the Star Empire Wars were veritably useless against it, as the energy throughout necessary to damage it could not be produced by techniques of that time. It is often said that a Successor State class-20 autocannon had less striking and penetration power than the humble autocannon class five of the post Star Empire Wars era. This was also made possible by the advent of true quantum computing standards, and computer architecture allowing for such powerful computing requirements that it became possible to both time and execute Jumpship jumps to land with a margin of error of 1 meter across 500 light years jump distance, and five meters across dimension jumping. Such precision and accuracy itself reduced the Jumpship fatality rate significantly, to where jump collisions and cross-magnetic ship destruction became a veritable thing of the past. Power production also became a veritable moot point with the advent of dual-stage fusion reactions, increasing engine efficiency so thoroughly that the power-to-weight ratio of fusion engines became a six-figure number, and engines of the size that powered warships before the Star Empire Wars could now power whole planets on their own. The hallmark of the era, nanotechnology and its intendant bonuses, would forever drastically alter all of society that it came into contact with. The benefits to medical, industrial, military, and even commercial sciences would forever warp the processes that had led to its creation to begin with and rewrite many of the rulebooks that Existence had lived by for years to come. The downside to this is that not all equipment possessed by even the most technological of the Star Empires, the Magi, is at this standard. There are many notable delays in rolling out these standards due to the implied scale of the upgrades, and though the Magi are behind, the other Star Empires are even farther behind than that.

Revision Six architecture is the blossoming standard of technology as of the beginning years of the Second Star League, and actually some would claim it to be founded in the year 2SL-11 with the first forays into Quantum Object Manipulation and Quantum Energy Manipulation. Though still incredibly theoretical, the believed possibilities of these states of matter and energy may themselves herald the answers to resource consumption, energy transfer, physical aging and deterioration, and a host of other issues still plaguing Existence. Due to its infancy, these sciences have not yet migrated to the military sectors, though the promises they hold are already stacking up to make the superweapons of tomorrow.

As this affects all aspects of a subject in question, there is a rather simple equation to determine the effects of technology. When comparing one base to another, first the distance between the two bases is determined, and the direction. If the base is higher, the base unit is going to be better in every aspect than its older counterpart, and vice versa if the base is older than the compared unit. The distance is the major factor, however, in such comparisons, as one level increase or decrease will increase or decrease effectiveness by half respectively, though the scaling changes after that. With two revisions, the difference is double on the increase and reduction to a quarter effectiveness on the decrease. On three revisions, the difference is quadruple on the increase and reduction to an eighth on the decrease, and four revisions nets a eight times modifier on an increase and zero effectiveness on a decrease. Further increases will result in doubling the increase in power over the original, and still a net zero effectiveness from the older technology.

Using the example of the Successor States (the Inner Sphere of the early 3050s), which are universally considered to be at Revision Three for most applications and revision two for some others, there will be a significant change in its effectiveness when applied to different standards of combat. A Successor State Atlas can be expected to take some damage from an American M1A1 Abrams when fired on (a revision two unit), but will be able to take down the MBT with laser fire at close range and missiles at longer range without issue. However, the same Atlas when wagered against a Magi Atlas produced during the Star Empire Wars (R4) would only cause half damage per strike, and would take a fifty percent increase in damage from all return fire. The disparity for the Successor State Atlas becomes even worse when wagered against an enemy 'mech constructed after the Star Empire Wars, as the Successor State Atlas would deal only quarter damage to the target and would receive double damage from the enemy. This also applies to the enemy's relative speed compared to the Successor State units, though the weapons ranges are affected differently they are still severely increased. The Medium Lasers on a R5 Atlas (Inner Sphere lasers) would easily be able to out-range the LRM pack on a Successor State Atlas by almost half, and Kerensky help the poor Inner Sphere sod if the same R5 Atlas decided to take it out of him using the LRM rack it carried.

I hope this more clearly explains the issues between the technical revisions. Gundam is a strange one in these terms, especially Gundam SEED, since different parts of all the sides' technology would conform to different levels of standards, such as the beam weapons would fall more along the lines of R4, while armor composites are more along the lines of R2 (Phase Shift would be closer to R6, maybe R7). The disparities are rather amusing, and interesting to write into story.

Remember, if you are not thoroughly confused, you have not been thoroughly informed.

* * *

TRO Section: Today I have the Thornheart's TRO, the Flame Eater class of warship. Not a ship to sneeze at.

**AeroTech 2 Vessel Technical Readout**

**Class/Model/Name**: Flame Eater Destroyer

**Tech: **Mixed Tech / 3067

**Vessel Type: **Monitor (WarShip Transportable)

**Rules: **Level 3, Standard design

**Mass: **400,000 tons

**Length: **660 meters

**Power Plant: **Standard (C)

**Safe Thrust: **5

**Maximum Thrust: **8

**Armor Type: **Clan Lamellor Ferro-carbide

**Armament:**  
5 NAC/35 (C)  
2 NAC/25 (C)  
6 Medium N-Gauss (C)  
3 Heavy NPPC (C)  
12 Light NPPC (C)  
4 NL55 (C)  
20 NL45 (C)  
35 AR10 Launcher (C)  
30 ER Large Laser (C)  
10 ER PPC (C)  
10 Large Pulse Laser (C)  
20 LB 10-X AC (C)  
10 LB 5-X AC (C)  
10 LB 20-X AC (C)  
30 Ultra AC/5 (C)  
40 LRM 15 (C)  
30 ATM 9 (C)  
30 Streak SRM 6 (C)  
1 Angel ECM Suite (C)  
1 Bloodhound Probe (IS)  
40 Laser AMS (C)  
5 Heavy Small Laser (C)

**Overview:**

The Flame Eater class of Monitors was designed purely as a heavy jumpship-transportable gunboat to add to the striking power of a fleet. No frills, no bull, nothing. Just plain and simple masses of firepower, capable of bringing down anything in its weight class or smaller.

Like any Monitor, this ship does not have a jump core. Instead, it relies on the transport of other jump-capable ships to get around from system to system. This is a bonus for the ship, since the 45 mass a Jump Core would have can be dedicated to extra armor, weapons, and systems. This makes the unit incredibly lethal, though dependant on other ships for mobility.

**Capabilities:**

The Flame Eater carries an immense spread of weapons, ranging from NAC/35 all the way to Heavy Small Lasers, and many in between. In addition to offensive capabilities, these ships also carry a spread of point-defense weapons capable of intercepting missiles before they hit the ship or nearby friendlies.

The Primary guns of these ships are 35cm Naval Guns, of which one is in the bow centerline, and two are on each forward side. Not far behind in potential are six Medium Naval Gauss Rifles, two in each forward arc and a single 25cm Naval Autocannon in the broadsides on each side of the ship. Of distant third are a small array of Naval Laser 55 and Heavy NPPC weapons, though in small quantity. For defense to the sides and rear against capital assets, 20 NL 45 weapons are available as well as 12 Light NPPC weapons.

Another plus brought with the ship is the large quantity of AR-10 Launchers, a total of 35 spread around the circumfrence of the ship gives it frightening missile power to being to a foe. These missiles are capable of causing massive damage to any foe targeted, even as small as a fighter craft or Mobile Suit. These launchers carry several different forms of missiles, and can be used for any purpose except suborbital bombardment.

The bulk of the arsenal in terms of numbers are smaller weapons more commonly considered anti-fighter guns, though this is a misnomer. Though it may seem fairly pithy to use something as 'weak' as a LB-10X AC on another capital ship, the exigency of using all available firepower when in close quarters can often turn the tide of a battle, especially when in the given firing arc the probable damage caused by those small weapons would exceed the damage of available capital weapons. This is especially true of the rear and rear-sides of the Flame Eater, where 4 Light NPPC are wagered against 10 LRM-15, 10 ATM9, 10 Ultra-5 AC, and 10 Streak SRM-6.

As a consequence, the Flame Eater can also be used as an anti-aircraft platform due to the volume of its arsenal, and as escort to more traditional warships that are thin or lacking in anti-aircraft arsenal. It however does not match the Riga-class in this context, for more of its arsenal for its size is geared toward anti-naval operations. This has not stopped resourceful Admirals from using the combination of Sendai-Class and Riga-Class to completely swamp enemy fighter forces before they could become a major threat.

Defensively, the Flame Eater has over three times the armor of its norm for a 400,000 ton ship, translating into protection equivalent to a normal 1-megaton Warship. These ships are reknown for being able to take an immense beating from any capital assets, and that is without the other defensive capabilities of the ship. For missile defense, this ship carries 40 Laser AMS and 5 heavy Small lasers, which can dent or destroy even the largest of capital missiles. Smaller missiles fired in salvo are just as easily intercepted with these arms.

The most innovative feature of this class of ships is called the 'Light Shell Generator'. These equipment features are standard on all Flame Eater units, and are almost alwatys active except when docked with a ship or station. The Shell Generator produces a polarized spatial distortion barrier that can deflect a certain amount of incoming ordinance below a given threshold, per turn. This capability has tripled the expected combat life of these monitors, and given more than a few foes one hell of a rude shock. This shell system has only a minor bearing on targeting foes outside the shell, and that only with PPCs and Lasers, not with missiles or ballistic arms.

**Battle History:**

The battle history of the Flame Eater is a long and impressive history of ships that can turn whole enemy battalions of Mobile Suits into smouldering chunks.

The first battle the Flame Eater took part in was actually not one against the Negaverse, but against their allies in the Dark Moon Empire. A Dark Moon fleet of capital ships and some ground assets had been assigned the task of taking Bensinger 410, a world long claimed to have been Dark Moon and rebuffed by both the citizenry and the Magi. In orbit around the planet was the Magi Phalanx-class Brick Wall, which had been issued four of the new Flame Eater destroyers to compensate for having part of its aerofighters drawn off for replacements to another unit. Thinking one Superdreadnought would be an easy kill, the Dark Moon fleet continued its operations and advanced on the Magi, heedless of the nightmare really waiting for them. As the fighter battle began outside the ship's engagement bubble, the four Flame Eaters took off and surged forward, right into the middle of the furball, where they could do the most damage possible. With armor well exceeding that of the average 400,000 ton ship and a Light Shell Generator, the Flame Eaters were able to abosorb a massive amount of damage from the fighters, thereby distracting them from taking down the Magi fighters. Combined with the Brick Wall's fighter compliment, the Flame Eaters were able to create four kill zones that the Magi fighters drove the enemy aerofighter screen into and the Flame Eaters proceeded to annihilate them in groups of as many as seven a minute. With the fighters destroyed, the Brick Wall surged out of its orbit and forward toward the enemy ships while launching the ten Mobile Armors it carried. Though the Dark Moon fleet attempted to retreat, they were overtaken by the Brick Wall and her escorts, and in the ensuing running naval battle the Brick Wall accounted for three McKenna-class warships and the Flame Eaters accounted for two Texas-class, four Nightlord-class and over a dozen assorted DropShips. Those few ships that surrendered were ransomed back to the Dark Moon at a significant markup over book value.

**Variants:**

Variants of the Flame Eater class are rare. For their size and mission, they are almost overequipped to their tasks. The most common variants revolve around stripping out some of the standard-scale autocannons and replacing with NL-25 weapons and extra heat sinks, to increase anti-capital firepower, though this is exceedinly rare. The ship was designed with modular components under the Universal Maintenance Initiative, though modification was not really part of that plan as originally drafted.

**Notable Vessels & Crews:**

FDE-18899 Glasgow (Captain Tania Weste)  
The Glasgow was something of an unevenly lucky ship, not for its crew or even for the captain, but in terms of things it found. On the firtst duty assignment of the ship, the Glasgow and its intendant fleet had encountered a Negaverse invasion force after the official end of the Quarter War, which brought out the realization that even after being beat down the Negaverse was not through fighting. The Glasgow was later assigned to an EEC Jumpship, and during that tour was able to record the birth of a new star during the exploration tour, a record that earned the Glasgow and the EEC Jumpship major accolades from the scientific community. The Ship has been credited with finding numerous Brian Caches in old Star League territory, it has found two planetary human civilizations with no explanation to how they got where they were found, and even discovered a planet with monumental ruins of an ancient civilization and no inhabitants or any trace of them.

FDE-28558 Powerbomb (Captain Markus)  
The Powerbomb has something of a distinction all its own, being a ship staffed entirely by Eugenics and captained by an Abtahka Snow Raven Warship Captain. Nevertheless, the ship served with distinction as escort to more than a few Warships, starting with the Leviathan II-class and working its way up to the Nirvana-class Ultradreadnought Nirvana Celeste, a warship captured by the Magi and purchased off the Magi by the Star League. The original captain of the ship, Markus (Raven), had participated in over a dozen space skirmishes with Negaverse naval forces, and each time his ship acquitted itself with stunning success, taking down ships twice, thrice its size and suffering very little damage in its own right. At his time of death, Captain Markus chose to upload his consciousness to the ship, and to this date his mind serves as the Ship's AI system.

**Deployment**

Flame Eater ships are often deployed as escort to Jumpships or inside a system as guard ships for important space facilities. Pirates would think more than twice about attacking a space station that is guarded by one of these monsters, let alone any other assets.

When used in an attack or siege fleet, Flame Eater units are typically deployed as a forward screening force to blunt the nose of an enemy attack, draw fire away from the heavier assets, and harass enemy capital assets with standoff fire. They typically also add their anti-aircraft capabilities to the first and second rings of a fleet defensive bubble to prevent enemy aerofighters from getting in close on the heavier warships and Dropships. When conducting siege work, these ships have limited capability for use attacking ground stations and targets. More often than not, an enterprising Admiral will 'bait' a ground Space Defense Station into firing at a rapidly-moving Flame Eater, then have the ship relay the enemy firing axis to other assets that will slag down the enemy guns into a pile of rubble.

The only known weakness this ship has is a lack of self-carried fighter assets. It has an array of Marines, four stars to be exact, though it carries no fighters of its own. In practice this is not a massive problem, as the defensive and anti-fighter capabilities of the ship are enough to stave most small fighter attacks, though in larger engagements the ship may fall prey to concentrated fighter strikes if for no other reason than volume of fire.

**BATTLETECH SPECIAL RULES**:

The Shell Generator can stop 40 Capital Points of damage at the beginning of a turn. For each attack the shell stops, half the attack value is subtracted from this total (round fractions down), giving a new maximum block value. If at any time an attack hits the ship that exceeds the present maximum block, the shield is torn down for the remainder of the turn and all subsequent attacks strike the ship normally. The shield will be active at full strength next turn, regardless of its status at the end of the prior turn. The protection of this shield is all-encompassing, including any DropShips carried by the Monitor and from all directions. The bubble has a side effect, however, that it is a complete sphere of protection, and some shots that would have missed the ship by a fair margin may still strike the shell.

Note that if an attack missies the ship by a Margin of Error of 1, the shell still takes the damage, though if the shell is breached the attack still misses the ship.

Standard scale wepaons with a Capital AV of below 1 (IE a standard-scale damage of 9 or below), and any missile weapons (excluding the Kraken-T) have no effect whatsoever on the shield. Their damage effect is completely turned aside with no ill effect on the shell generator. No reduction from the shell's threshold is made when such an attack hits it.

For outgoing weapons, due to the nature of the shield, energy weapons have a reduced hit chance. There is a random error firing through a mostly-polarized spatial distortion (the variance is 98 polarization for safety's purpose, since 100 polarization can instantly destroy a ship encompassed within and create a small black hole. The system is designed to fry out at 99.75 polarization as a final safety measure.). This variance translates only to photon, ion, and plasma weapons; solid objects are unaffected passing out the polarization. Any energy weapon, capital or standard, firing from inside the shell to a target outside recieves a +1 to-hit penalty due to possible minor random deflection when transiting the polarization. This penalty does not apply when the shield is down for any reason.

If an attack strikes the shell at the beginning of a turn with a single-shot Capital AV of 41 or higher, the controlling player rolls 2D6. on a roll of 4 or lower, the Shell Generator is overloaded and rendered inoperable until repairs can be made. A Competent crew can do this while still under fire, since the Shell Generator was engineered for just such a happenstance. The controlling player will then roll 2D6 and add 5 to the result, which will be the amount of turns after the shell was disabled that it takes an engineer to replace blown components and recharge the system. This presupposes such components are available (usually three sets are carried in spare parts, though sometimes more can be carried in stores). After the time has elapsed and a standard piloting roll has been made successfully, the shell is working again. If the piloting roll is failed, the player can attempt to reactivate the shell on the next turn with another piloting roll. If the roll is fumbled (result of 2) the replacement components are fried out and must be replaced anew, following the same process as above.

* * *

Class/Model/Name:

Flame Eater Destroyer

**Mass: **400,000 tons

Equipment: (Mass)

**Power Plant: **Standard (120,000.00)

**Structural Integrity: **240 (96,000.00)

**Safe Thrust: **5

**Maximum Thrust: **8

**Heat Sinks: **3,522 Double (2,988.00)

**Fuel & Fuel Pumps: **5,000.00

**Bridge & Controls: **1,000.00

**Fire Control Computers: **15,460.00

**Food & Water: **(200 days supply) (375.00)

**Armor Factor: **2,256 Lamellor Ferro-carbide (C) (1,920.00)

* * *

Armor Value

**(Capital Scale)**

**Fore: **414

**Fore Left / Right: **376 / 376

**Aft Left / Right: **376 / 376

**Aft: **338

* * *

Equipment & Options:

**Cargo:**

Bay 1: Cargo (1) with 5 doors (1,547.00)

**DropShip Capacity: **8 Docking Hardpoints (8,000)

**Life Boats: **35 (7 tons each) (245)

**Escape Pods: **35 (7 tons each) (245)

**Crew and Passengers: **

50 Officers (47 minimum)

85 Crew (75 minimum)

135 Gunners (132 minimum)

5 1st Class Passengers

100 Marine Battle Armor Troopers/Elementals

* * *

Weapons & Equipment:  
Loc, SRV, MRV, LRV, ERV,  
Heat, Mass

1 NAC/35 (C)(30 rounds)  
Nose, 35, 35, --, --  
120, 4,030.00

2 Medium N-Gauss (C)(60 rounds)  
Nose, 50, 50, 50, 50  
30, 11,024.00

3 Heavy NPPC (C)  
Nose, 45, 45, 45, 45  
675, 9,000.00

4 NL55 (C)  
Nose, 22, 22, 22, 22  
340, 4,400.00

10 ER Large Laser (C)  
Nose, 10(100), 10(100), 10(100), 10(100)  
120, 40.00

10 LRM 15 (C)(160 rounds)  
Nose, 9(90), 9(90), 9(90), --  
50, 55.00

2 NAC/35 (C)(60 rounds)  
FL/R, 70, 70, --, --,  
480, 16,120.00

2 Medium N-Gauss (C)(60 rounds)  
FL/R, 50, 50, 50, 50  
60, 22,048.00

6 NL45 (C)  
FL/R, 27, 27, 27, 27  
840, 10,800.00

5 AR10 (20 KW, 20 WS, 20 B)  
FL/R, (Damage dependent on missile used)  
200, 7,300.00

10 ER Large Laser (C)  
FL/R, 10(100), 10(100), 10(100), 10(100)  
240, 80.00

10 Laser AMS (C)  
FL/R, --, --, --, --  
240, 30.00

1 NAC/25 (C)(30 rounds)  
L/RBS, 25, 25, 25, --  
170, 6,036.00

4 NL45 (C)  
L/RBS, 18, 18, 18, 18  
560, 7,200.00

5 AR10 (20 KW, 20 WS, 20 B)  
L/RBS, (damage dependent on missile used)  
200, 7,300.00

10 ATM 9 (C)(140 rounds)  
L/RBS, 14(140), 14(140), --, --  
120, 140.00

5 ER PPC (C)  
L/RBS, 8(75), 8(75), 8(75), --  
150, 60.00

5 Large Pulse Laser (C)  
L/RBS, 5(50), 5(50), 5(50), --  
100, 60.00

10 LB 10-X AC (C)(160 rounds)  
40, 232.00  
5 LB 5-X AC (C)  
10, 80.00  
5 LB 20-X AC (C)  
60, 152.00  
L/RBS, 14(135), 14(135), 2(15), -- (Note that this is a composite bay with three classes of weapons)

4 Light NPPC (C)  
AL/R, 28, 28, 28, --  
840, 11,200.00

5 AR10 (20 KW, 20 WS, 20 B)  
AL/R,  
200, 7,300.00

10 LRM 15 (C)(160 rounds)  
AL/R, 9(90), 9(90), 9(90), --  
100, 110.00

10 Laser AMS (C)  
AL/R, --, --, --, --  
240, 30.00

10 Ultra AC/5 (C)(200 rounds)  
AL/R, 7(70), 7(70), 7(70), --  
40, 160.00

10 Streak SRM 6 (C)(210 rounds)  
AL/R, 12(120), 12(120), --, --  
80, 88.00

4 Light NPPC (C)  
Aft, 28, 28, 28, --  
420, 5,600.00

5 AR10 (15 KW, 20 WS, 20 B)  
Aft, (damage is dependent on missile used)  
100, 3,400.00

10 LRM 15 (C)(160 rounds)  
Aft, 9(90), 9(90), 9(90), --  
50, 55.00

10 ATM 9 (C)(140 rounds)  
Aft, 14(140), 14(140), --, --  
60, 70.00

10 Ultra AC/5 (C)(200 rounds)  
Aft, 7(70), 7(70), 7(70), --  
20, 80.00

10 Streak SRM 6 (C)(210 rounds)  
Aft, 12(120), 12(120), --, --  
40, 44.00

1 Angel ECM Suite (C)  
Aft, 0, 1.50  
1 Bloodhound Probe (IS)  
0, 2.00  
5 Heavy Small Laser (C)  
15, 2.50  
3(30), --, --, -- (Note that this is a composite bay with 3 types of equipment)

1 Lot Spare Parts (1.00)  
4,000.00

1 Gravitic Lattice  
4,000.00

1 Light Shell Generator  
2,000.00

**TOTALS:**

7,010 Heat

400,000.00 Tons**  
**

**Tons Left: **.00

* * *

Calculated Factors:

**Total Cost: **1,700,000,000 C-Bills

**Battle Value: **261,054

**Cost per BV: **6,512.06

**Weapon Value: **158,788 (Ratio .61)

**Damage Factors: **SRDmg 9,136; MRDmg 8,517; LRDmg 5,803; ERDmg 1,666

**Maintenance Point Value: **MPV 752,790 (195,735 Structure, 258,750 Life Support, 298,305 Weapons)

**Support Points: **SP 765,025 (102 of MPV)

**BattleForce2: **(Not applicable)


	3. Bridge Over The River Styx

(Chapter 3: Bridge Over The River Styx)

Anyone with a working pulse could sense the quiet dread throughout the ship. Little of it was said by anyone, but all knew it was there. Hours prior, they had fought five to one odds to a standstill, achieving an almost unheard-of ten-to-one kill ratio for their efforts. But the exigency of modern battle was writ to anyone who could read between the lines: after having lost just shy of half their Mobile Forces, the _Mjolnr_ and attendant ships were not a viable combat fleet so much as they were a large target ripe for a second try.

Thus, the operational plan to relocate the fleet after a three-hour window to recover as much of the hors d' combat and other miscellaneous salvage as possible. Three hours would give the salvage teams plenty of time to pick up the pieces and return to the ship. Twice, actually, when you got down to it. Even better, a 'killed' unit normally does not catastrophically detonate unless ammo stores are severely compromised, and in most cases that is not what happened to the units thus knocked out. There was a good chance of repairing about two-thirds of what had been combat killed in the battle, and that feat possible only with the 'renegade' nanomachine hives the ship was even still preparing as the salvage crews continued their recovery efforts.

The Ship's AI estimated that after five hours, a second enemy unit coming by the scene was a 95% likelihood. Four hours was 75%, and three hours thirty minutes was about 55%, so the three hours time limit was strict. That window was fast drawing to a close, and the last crews were picking up the last units and scraps that were at the least usable by the nanomachine systems as scrap to repair something else. Worst case, they raid some asteroids to fuel the nanos to effect the repairs.

The one major downside to salvage operations was that few pilots were recovered alive, since the damage necessary to kill a machine was usually best accomplished by killing the pilot. The machines they could repair and return to service, but without pilots they were more or less useless, and that is what many of the mechanics in question feared about their efforts. Training pilots was not a real practical option, since that implied having personnel to spare to the training and not crew the ships and the training standards of the Empire required years to get a pilot up to battery.

And the _Mjolnr_ was technically retreating to effect repairs to the ship, units, and most of all to the morale of the crew and pilots that survived. Nobody liked the thought of retreating in the face of such disparity, but the Star Admiral's decision was a sound one.

A decision that would rewrite the fate of Existence.

-x-x-x-

Calamira walked out of the ship's bridge as the jump klaxon sounded the one hour warning. She had no desire to be anywhere near the bridge when the jump occurred, since she could more or less be guaranteed to be knocked unconscious by the jump. A side effect of her position and duty to the ship, any jump affected her to an extreme that most did not feel, but the planned jump the ship was expecting was so far gone from the normal process that it would practically guarantee a rather embarrassing term of unconsciousness. Her first tour on a _Phalanx_-class ship made the problem infinitely clear to her, as she had awoken hours after the jump in the medbay.

Outside the bridge, it was a matter of meters to her quarters, as three doors down and to the port side rested the room that she rested in. Despite her rank and status, her quarters were less than special. Like any of the quarters in the ship, the walls were little more than woven diamond armor plating with a few amenities here and there, like the integrated bookcase or the sink and personal hygiene cabinet. The bed was a practical given, of course, and underneath were storage lockers. Being a Strategic Officer, her room also had a secured firearms locker and a safe that contained the almighty Dark Book, the book that contained her personal-issued operation authorization codes to do all manner of wicked things, such as authorize an invasion of one of the other Star Empires for certain reasons, deploy nuclear weapons, request immediate assistance from the Star League, or even order the ship self-destructed. Other than those two oddities, her room was practically nondescript, loaded with books of various types and not much more than that.

It was a mostly nondescript room for a simple reason. After laying down on the bed and thinking about it, Calamira came to the realization that she had not taken any vacation in eight years. Eight years was a long time to remain mired to one's job, but she achieved it and had thus far ignored the rest of her life. 'Married to the job' as the saying went, and when it sprang into her mind she could only laugh at the thought. Calamira had engineered her life around her duties, an arcane support function of the Magi naval forces that could literally decide the fate of planets based on which side could 'read' the other faster. A grossly professional way to think, in the end, for she acted as if the Star Empire Wars never ended, even though the chance of a new interdimensional war was nil (at least discounting the force that just attacked the _Mjolnr_).

The crux of her duties haunted her for five minutes, staring at the ceiling and awaiting the inevitable. With nowhere to go, her mind ran circles around her inability to do her job right, then her lack of a social life (she had not even bothered trying to chase guys since her days in the academy), then her lack of even a decent way to distract herself when she wanted to. The loop was haunting like few others, self-destructive to her morale as she realized she had failed the ship grossly in the past battle, and was failing herself just as thoroughly if not as quickly. The thought of having to jump five thousand years backwards in time just to avoid the ship being destroyed by a likely second wave was just as worse, especially with the knowledge of what would happen to her.

With five minutes of mind-wracking under her belt, she decided on a whim to go about finding a way to distract herself farther down the length of the ship. On a ship of ten thousand persons and a length of over five kilometers bow to stern, there had to be something she could use to distract herself, short of dragging some guy into her quarters and getting laid. While the latter would definitely distract herself for several hours (or at least until the jump) she had an oath on that subject to maintain and would not violate it. Just a matter of finding something to pay attention to while she was still conscious, she just had to make sure she was somewhere secured by the time the jump happened.

Out in the hall and headed down the central access corridor, she came to realize an enigma about her position: the farther down the corridor she went, the less people recognized her. After a kilometer of walking, she found that fewer than five people recognized her for her actual rank, the rest just considered her another administrative officer assigned to the forward half of the ship. The dark blue uniform really did not mean much, as most of the administrators wore something of that nature, and there were no Commandos on the ship so she could not be a Commando or Strategic Officer... After a kilometer and a half, the only person that did actually recognize her was the Commandant of the _Jolly Mule_, a cargo dropship attached to the fleet that was carrying spare parts for the Mobile Suits and extra fuel.

She stopped outside a Marine Barracks (there were dozens of them up and down the central corridor of the ship) and simply listened. Inside, a metal band was doing some old classics and original works. Calamira was not one for the really heavy metal favored by the Marines, but the music was something strangely comforting to her in a day where there had been little comfort, just the feelings of despair echoing through her mind. Such songs as _Rainbows In The Dark_ (_Dio_ Cover), _Holy Hellions_ (Original), _Nemo_ (Nightwish Cover), _Immortal Swords_ (Original) killed a good twenty minutes for her, but in the end it was not enough to immerse herself in music. She kept going after the fourth song, intent on finding better ways to distract herself before the final buzzer.

On a whim, she entered one of the larger cargo bays, this one presently used for Mobile Suit parts and adjacent to several of the flight decks. When she entered, she moved far enough forward to allow the door to close, and just stood there and looked around. Simply standing there, looking around momentarily, had been enough to 'activate' a Murphy's Law: Never tell the Platoon Sergeant (addendum: or officer) you have nothing to do.

"Hey, Admin!" Calamira's head immediately whips around to the shouter, which she immediately recognized was a Supply Core Warrant Officer. A moment later her mind saw the incoming object and her arms snapped out to catch it just barely in time. She realized it was a portable data device, of which a ship of this size would have thousands running around at any given time. "Get the inventory from Delta Block and make sure all our shit's dogged down tight!"

"Uh..." Calamira begins.

"Move it, kid! We ain't got all day!" he orders her while waving her in the general direction of the area he needed checked..

"Yessir!" Calamira replies immediately. She knew one thing clearly from Naval Basic Training long ago: when they say jump and they wear more brass than you, jump first and hope it is high enough.

Getting to Delta block was the simple part, since what part of the storage bay that counted as was marked on the flooring tiles. The task was a simple one that everyone on the ship did as part of their basic naval training: worm your way through the crate stacks, scanning the RFID plates to get the information on what was in each crate. The steel crates were themselves intelligent devices, each knew what equipment it stored and the ship always had a general idea what was on hand due to paperwork run through its inventory systems, but sometimes a more through inventory process was needed to ensure they did not run out of important stuff at the most inopportune times possible.

The tasking was perfect to Calamira's needs as well as the Warrant Officer's needs. He got the info from Delta block and could collate a usage track from it. Calamira got her supreme distraction, as the exigency of doing an unfamiliar task in very cramped quarters took her mind far away from the battle long since past. The minutes dropped away as she worked from one end of the Delta crate maze to the next, scanning the plates and verifying the woven diamond/tungsten draw cables were all anchored tight and drawn taught to prevent them from shifting during a Jump operation. An unsecured object involved in a jump operation could literally become a missile of mass death in the short time a ship was plowing through hyperspace due to the varying gravitational and magnetic forces involved in such activities, and over the millennia of the Empire's existence there had been casualties—lots of them—due to unsecured objects. It was common practice on the training ships to place a gas cylinder in a reinforced fighter bay and close it in before the first jump of a training rotation, just as a demonstration of what would happen. Calamira remembered the sight as the outside of the bay had been vented to space by a hellish explosion that was laced with fragments of the cylinder. 'Oops' did not normally cover the result of such an oversight, so everything was checked and double-checked as she was doing now.

"Delta block?" the Warrant asks by way of greeting as she enters the room. The other crewmemebers assigned to this bay had moved to some of the pilot lounges to await the inevitable, leaving just Calamira and the Chief Warrant Officer in charge of the bay.

"Everything is secured, sir," Calamira replies as she loads the data device into its cradle. Within a matter of moments, it uploaded the revised inventory estimate to the mainframe and the data was ready to be sorted through for an eventual report. "Something wrong, sir?" she asks as he grimaces at the terminal.

"Well, not counting what got slagged but can be used for parts, we used about twenty percent of our available stores for mobile suits and more than that for mobile armors. We pasted them, but we took a hellish beating ourselves. You know where we're going?"

Calamira had actually not troubled herself with the where, but the _when_ was what dragged at her heart. "Dunno where, sir, but we're supposedly jumping five thousand years backwards to avoid a second assault."

This elicited a surprised whistle from the Chief Warrant Officer. "That's a helluva long way to go backwards just to avoid those bastards," he opines.

"We gotta do what we gotta do," Calamira noted.

"Yeah, I hear tha—" the phone rings. "Bay 310," the warrant answers. "Right, Tina, thanks," he hangs up, apparently since the reason she called needed no explanation he had only needed a few words. "You're bridge admin, right?" He doesn't give her a chance to answer. "What's it look like to use half our onboard Capital missiles in one battle?"

"Big, loud, and noisy," Calamira replies. "I don't think we got huge results from them, either."

The Warrant relents: "Eh, it ain't something to shit a brick about, Admin. Yeah, we used a lot, but we still have the cargo dropships to supply the fleet with. Only thing we need is pilots," he adds. "We'll live, and we'll be back to kick their asses another day."

"Such refreshing bluntness," Calamira replies. If anything, the denizens of the Empire were very well known for not allowing an attack to slide. They would be back and they would kick ass, it was just a matter of time.

"Hey, side question, why you down this far? I'm guessing your post is up towards the bridge?"

_I hate it when people ask questions_, Calamira thinks aloud. "Killing time. Nothing to do up front with the jump and all..." Killing time she had succeeded in, as the three-minute jump klaxon sounded.

"Attention all personnel, please put your seat back up in the upright and locked position, your tray tables stowed, and your assholes puckered," the Jump Coordinator notes over the ship-wide intercom. "We're about to take a massive leap of faith," he concludes a lot more seriously, likely as the Star Admiral was staring him down for the crassness of his comment.

"You know why _She_ could not find them?" the Warrant asks in the silence after the announcement.

The edge the Warrant put to 'she' did not thrill Calamira, but she was acting as if she was a no-name admin and had no room to take offense at this one. "Dunno, she said something about the ship being a mobile doll, or they could interfere," Calamira replies.

"There might not have been a ship, either," the Warrant replies, then derisively snorted his contempt. "Bullshit. Pansies hiding behind their little toys, afraid to face us in the open challenge of Batchall," he half-sneers moments before the two-minute warning goes off.

"I will warn you, this will probably knock me out," Calamira notes to the Warrant.

"TDS?" he asks, meaning Transit Disorientation Syndrome, a somewhat common affliction for those who travel hyperspace.

"Something like that," Calamira replies. Hers was not TDS in its proper form, it was an over-sensitivity to auras, and being as sensitive as she was could cause massive problems for her during a jump. Even a normal, low-power short distance jump gave her an almost-instant migraine.

"That sucks. Well, I've got a quik-stim to get you going after the jump," the Warrant notes, then was silent for a few moments. "Given our supplies, we should be able to survive out and away for several months, minimum, and that not counting our new Nano machine shops."

"That's good news," Calamira replies a moment before the one minute klaxon sounds.

-x-x-x-

"Still with us, sir?" The Commander asks.

"Aff, I think," Star Admiral Centara replies. "What the hell happened?"

"Your guess would beat ours out in this case, if you don't say anything we haven't already."

"How long was I out?" The Star Admiral touches his forehead where he thought he felt something liquid trickling down his face. When he removed his hand, it came off glistening, though in the red-light environment of the bridge under combat situation it was hard to tell he was looking at blood. A quick sniff at it confirmed it was; "Blast, bleeding again,' he notes sourly as he pulls a kerchief from his pocket and presses it against the origin cut.

"You were out five minutes, but moaning the whole time like someone had shot you in the leg," the Commander replies immediately.

"Most have been a helluva dream, then," Wayne offers as a sardonic reply. It must have been the nature of the moment that nobody replied with their own witty comeback, leading him to examine his surroundings a bit better. The internal damage alarms were going off, which was something Wayne did not expect on a day like today. He was supposed to have gotten away clean, all things considered. "What's the status? Full status report, all stations," he orders next.

"Helm, engines coming online right now," Willie notes.

"Sensors, we're in a debris field, man-made objects, no details yet. Ten minutes. No threats detected. No objects within ten minutes of striking the hull, so we're safe where we are...for now."

"Weapons, automatic grid shows online, manual grid online, I have callbacks from 65 percent of the weapons stations and rising at this time."

"Flight reporting, I have 60 percent callbacks from our remaining mobile forces. Mechanics in the area report a lot of unconscious pilots in their cockpits." Flight referred to the Mobile Forces controllers and the Flight Boss, the guy that controlled who launched in what order and how the forces' egression or ingression from the ship.

"Engineering Control reporting, we have some small flash-fires throughout the ship, damage control crews are on it right now. The hull took some minor damage from the jump, but I think that is the least of our worries right now."

"Why?" Wayne asks almost innocently.

"Hit 'em, Janie," the Engineering Controller replies.

"Conn, Jump Control, all Jump Drive systems show critical failure. Jump Drive Enclosure warnings, internal Jump Drive temperature has exceeded failing point for runners and solenoid. Coil is down, initiator is down, controller is down. Suspect possible core critical scenario, unknown damage to core components. We are not going anywhere without a helluva lot of overhaul, Star Admiral."

"Just fucking great," Wayne replies sharply. "All right, we go to condition two without battle stations until further notice. All personnel are to break down, squelch fires, pick up the pieces, and begin hull repairs and any weapon systems knocked out of order are to be repaired immediately. I want a fleet screen up and extended out to a minimum safe distance, to be expanded as we have more units available. Until we know where we are and how we're doing it, we need to assume the worst. Type commanders in briefing in fifteen minutes with detailed zone reports. Get to it, people," Wayne orders.

"Sir, Calamira is missing," the Commander notes after people begin executing their orders.

"Last known location?" Wayne asks in response.

"I don't know. The AI might know."

Wayne grimaces; he was getting tired of all this pussyfooting about the existence of an AI on his ship. "AI unlock, authorization Star Admiral Wayne Centara, full control."

"Strategic Officer Calamira Weste is presently in route to medbay 7-A-2, sir. She was knocked unconscious and is unresponsive at this time, even after a dose of quik-stim," the AI reports immediately.

"I can guess why," Wayne notes. He knew something of the issue at hand, but was not going to press at this time, since she was confirmed alive even if unconscious. Even if she was awake, she would not be able to her job for some time to come, so best he not poke the issue. "All right, we'll worry about that at a later time. Get some fighters out to start checking this debris field, cautiously, for any signs of 'intelligent' life," of which he loosely used 'intelligent' in this case, since man-made debris this far away from Earth at this scale typically meant war. Most history lines had a stringent recycling program for space debris this far into their lines of time, thus debris in significant quantity meant either war in space or a breakdown of the parent organizations that did the recycling, which also typically meant war as well.

"Aye, Star Admiral," Commander Ward replies immediately. "Control, I want a Trinary of Fighters out and about beyond the screen, playing the part of nosy assholes. Condition 2 rules of engagement only. Move it!"

"Aff, sir!" the nearest Controller shouts as she begins selecting the best available fighters for the task.

"This is the part where it gets hairy. In what fashion do the locals fight in space, if there is this much debris? Is there even a war going on right now? Are the locals going to see us and instantly attack?"

"Is the mess hall going to serve some Mexican that will give the whole ship the super-shits?" the helmsman asks in response to all of the above.

"The ship may not want to know, all things considered," Commander Ward notes.

"What? To be hit with super-shits inducing foodstuffs and not know it? Such deplorable conduct," Willy replies.

"Beware the shit from the helmsman, it is more caustic yet," the Suborbital Officer replies.

"Last I checked, your arse doesn't exactly smell like a rose, either," Willy retorts crassly.

"Enough, you two," Commander Ward orders before things got really out of hand.

"Are they always like this?" Star Admiral Centara asks. Thus far he had heard them go at it twice, but his shift did not completely coincide with theirs.

"Indeed, sir," Commander Ward replies immediately. "And this is mild compared to average," he appends after a few moments of silence.

"Why, thank you Commander Ward, I did not know you cared...or paid that much attention."

"Such grandiose illusions," the Suborbital Officer replies immediately.

"All right, kiddies, will you two grow up and do your fucking jobs?" Commander Ward replies extremely crassly.

"The...anger..." one of the nearby Flight Controllers notes sourly.

"You as well, Controller," he replies immediately.

"Aff, sir!" the chastised Controller replies.

"Conn from Communications," the radio chirps.

"Go for Conn," Wayne notes as he presses a button on the console for his chair.

"Sir, we have an issue down here in the radio room. Our radios are coming back online, confirmed green. ESM / ECM / SIGINT gear is still rebooting from our hard crash, estimate ten minutes from now before we're full up on that, it is routine. The problem is the HPG, sir." The communications officer could naught but be sixteen, seventeen at best, Wayne figured, gauging just by her voice.

"Talk to me," Wayne orders.

"The HPG is rebooted and I've run one full diagnostic over it, as well as having the AI logic-trap the inputs and outputs, and everything keeps coming back 200-green. Only problem is, the HPG is seeing nothing out there, not even the cross-dimensional fleet orientation pulse from the Star League Fleet Beacon. It's like we're somewhere that interdimensional HPG systems do not exist."

There was no immediate response from the Star Admiral on that thought. "Sir?" Commander Ward asks, wondering why the Star Admiral had gone silent all of a sudden.

"Acknowledged, Communications. Bring our SIGINT and ESM gear up priority, ECM is less of an issue at this time. Once everything is live, run a full system sweep and have your type commander bring me a report as soon as the paperwork is run off. Thank you for the report."

"Aye, sir," the Radio Officer replies before she kills the link.

"This is turning out to be the tour from hell. Good thing we brought all the whoopass we could muster with us," Commander Ward notes.

"If the locals use antimatter weapons indiscriminately, Commander, we're Grade-A fucked," Wayne replies. "Otherwise, all I can do is hope we're up to the challenges," he says as a child's teddy bear floats by the bridge window close enough to be clearly seen.

-x-x-x-

(10 hours after jump)

"Love the décor around here," Delta-6 notes.

"You must be psycho if you think chunk of colony is good decoration," Delta-17 notes.

"It's better than the frogs glowing green-blue at night," Delta-9 notes as his Fireball jinks around a thousand-ton chunk of colony exterior plating. "I was once in on a 'sweep for life' operation on a post-apocalypse Terra, circa 2040 AD. After all the firecrackers (1) went off, we were hard pressed to find enough life to fill a Dropship."

"At least the atmosphere didn't superheat to flash-fire temps," Delta-12 notes.

"The thunderstorms...they were absolutely horrid to watch, after the apocalypse. Great plumes of dust created their own thunder cells, infinitely more powerful than normal water-based cloud storms, each cell with dozens of strikes per square meter per hour as the storms rolled along the surface of America. We had to race to get ahead of those storms and make sure their eat path was clear, but even then we could do little, find less." Delta-9 continues unabated, his mind on his past experience.

"Another time and another dimension away, Delta-9. Don't let it eat at your soul, there are always fucktards in Existence that believe mass destruction is the answer," the unit Star Captain notes.

"And there are always people in Existence that shoot mass destroyers," Delta-24 replies. "We just happen to be some of them."

"Indeed," Delta-9 replies.

"Star Captain, I got something here," Delta-15 reports over the frequency. Delta-15 carried a special Enhanced Sensor Long Range pod underslung his craft's left wing, giving him immense sensor power to work with. The downside to such specialized gear was that his craft also had the electronic signature of a small Warship when running in active search mode with the pod, making the Trinary a rather interesting target to someone with ESM gear.

"Talk fast, kid," Delta-1 replies.

"Large, sir, possible non-toroidal colony. Definitely too large to be even an Ultra-Dreadnought. Course 0-8-5 mark 1-1-0 Sol true." What his course description reported was that the object was at heading 085 (almost due East on a compass) using the center of Sol (the star that Earth orbits) as a reference, with a vertical deflection of 110 using the zenith of Sol's gravity well as reference for zero (straight up from the center of the sun, similar to North on Earth).

"Roger that. Reorient 0-8-0 mark 1-0-0 Sol true, approach formation line abreast, sensors active. Move it out," the Star Captain orders. His directions did not match the exact location of the colony, since in space searching a potentially hostile area was best done at strange angles to make ambushing a force a lot harder.

"Aye, sir," the pilots immediately begin reorienting to fo0rm a line abreast on the target zone and begin forward at an easy pace. There was some obligatory dodging of debris from what they could only guess was another colony destroyed, and though inspection time was minimal they had identified some spaced body parts from otherwise normal-looking people, which made things a bit more urgent around here.

"Time to target intercept...sixteen minutes at present velocity," Delta-15 notes.

"Roger that, eyes sharp people."

Anticipation caused the minutes to pass quickly. With six minutes flying time, the fighters were able to clear out of most of the debris and get a good look at what they just chased down.

"Good Gods," Delta-5 breathes, looking at the object in question.

"Another civilian colony assaulted by the military forces of the realm," the Star Captain notes.

"But, if I don't miss my guess, the structural integrity held on this one. The colony appears to still be viable." They had already encountered one smaller colony that had enough warship-grade cannon holes in it to have vented it to space. There was nothing worthwhile in that colony, for the time being.

"That will be good news to the old man," Delta-23 notes with something approaching a smile to tone.

"Eighth point, return to the ship and inform the Star Admiral that we have a colony here large enough to mask the ship's cross-section. Remainder of Trinary will scout area and verify no bogeys or tangos."

"Aff, sir," Delta-15 replies. "C'mon, 16, we're RTB," he continues.

"And when you return, bring a box of ration packs for everyone and some oxygen bottles. We've been out here for a while, might as well top off." Fuel was not a concern for the Trinary, since each fighter had an extra ten tons of fuel internally mounted as well as ten drop tanks externally mounted. Their orders were for 'Long Range Recon Patrol', not 'Recon-in-force' and certainly nothing with the words 'attack', 'siege', or 'immolate', therefore armaments were less important to the units than deploy time or fuel consumption.

"Roger that, Star Captain," Delta-16 notes. Within minutes they were even off the C3 retransmit, meaning that there was too much debris in the area to read from each other's sensors.

"Shall we begin the recon and inspection?"

The fighters began breaking down into constituent elements, each pair of fighters moving in a different direction to begin checking the exterior of the colony and also check the surrounding space for any possibly hostile contacts. The fighters first passed close to the colony, scanning outward from its hull to see if they could 'ping loose' any contacts, and got nothing. Everything in proximity to the colony was dead already, most of it was chunk of colony with some strange polymer-based tether cables holding various chunks of the destroyed colony together. The fighters were instinctively careful not to trifle with the cabling, since a few meters worth of that cable contained a significant amount of mass compared to even a heavy-loaded Fireball.

"Nothing, sir, no contacts that don't qualified as lost, drifting souls," Delta-30 notes.

"All right, I can live with that," the Star Captain notes. "Start searching radially away from the colony, increments of forty degrees on all three axes. Bring it back on minus twenty degrees from your prior course after, oh, call it twenty hexes worth," which amounted to over 200,000 kilometers distance outbound and inbound. A simple feat for fighters, actually, since in space there was no wind resistance to slow down forward inertia. All they would have to do is maneuver around the debris on their course.

The fighters broke down and began on their assigned heading, moving slow with their sensors active to check and clear the whole area around the colony. It was standard practice to search in this fashion, since in space you could hide in three dimensions and get away with it, whereas in a planet's atmosphere there was more or less nowhere to hide except getting real close to the surface of the planet, and that usually did not end well.

On the loop back, the fighters came back to see the _Mjolnr_ and fleet slowly plowing their way from where they arrived to nearby the colony, which they intended on using as something of a decoy to make the locals think the _Mjolnr_ was a spurious radar return from a colony. If they got close there would be no disguising 5.8 million tons of ship, but by that time the enemy would be well within gun range so the matter would quickly become a moot point.

"Fun times," Delta-6 notes. "Anyone taking bets on how many years before we can jump home?"

"Five," Delta-7 replies immediately. "And that is conservative," she adds after a moment.

"Never," Delta-21 replies. "I got it from one of the Jump Engine Mechanics that we cooked most of the engine in the jump. It'll be days before it is official, but word is we don't have enough of a jump core left to use in a ship half this thing's size."

"Why do the fates fuck us so hard?" Delta-10 asks.

"They gotta get their action somewhere," Delta-18 replies. "We're just the likely candidates for it."

"Anybody can screw the Empire, but it takes a special kind to make it worthwhile," their Controller adds.

-x-x-x-

Calamira stirred to consciousness by way of the music that was going through the room, which definitely stimulated her mind since she rarely ever listened to rock or metal. Her preference was such music forms as Trance and House, since metal forced her mind to focus in the wrong direction for her to complete her job as she was assigned to the ship for. Others of her profession preferred metal over anything, still others preferred classical without vocals. It was as much a psychology thing as anything else, she figured.

As the song shifted from _Dream On_ by Aerosmith to _One Step Closer_ by Linkin Park, her mind and body snapped completely conscious, immediately remembering what had been going on before she blacked out. "Oh, shit!" she shouts as she practically catapults to sitting from a laying position.

"Awake already?" Star Admiral Centara asks. "I was expecting you to be out for at least another day or two."

Calamira immediately looks to her left where the Star Admiral was sitting, then farther left to the medical instrument panel. It did not take her more than two extra seconds to realize she was in one of the ship's numerous medical establishments. "Sir?" she asks in questioning why she was in the medbay.

"Relax, kid," Wayne replies immediately. "You were knocked out at jump. Unsurprising, really, every person I've dealt with that has your quals or higher has the same problem."

"Sir, I think I should submit my resig—"

"Stow it," Wayne cuts her off, though not harshly. "You resign when you do something wrong. Simply being what you are is not cause to declare yourself wrong, clear?"

"Still, sir, I—"

"If the enemy is that close to a Warship emerging from jump, they're frag-bait from the conflicting magnetic fields. Gods help them if they're anywhere near the Initiator, either," the Star Admiral notes. "You have not earned any form of reprimand for your conduct over the past several days, Calamira. Let it go," he concludes.

"Aye, sir," she replies warily. "How long was I out?"

"Oh, sixteen hours or so," Wayne notes after checking his watch.

"Erm, do we know where we are? In space and time, that is," Calamira asks, her second greatest dread about what happened.

"No and no," Wayne replies as the Medtech enters her area.

"Awake, I see," he says as he gives the scan device panel a quick check over. "Well, other than being in dire need of a decent meal, you should be good to go right now," he notes. "If you still feel tired or dizzy, Strategic Officer, you should rest. And I don't mean climbing around a cargo bay taking inventory as rest, either, I mean honest to God rest, clear?"

"Aff, sir," even despite her rank, doctors and Medtechs still counted as 'sir' when addressed as far as she was concerned.

"You are released, Strategic Officer. Have a good day." He hauls open the curtain around her ward, to the view of an otherwise empty medical ward. Of twenty beds, there were only two occupied beyond hers. The MedTech was on his way toward one of the other wards before she could say anything to him.

"Think you can walk straight?" Wayne asks as he stands up.

"I think I can manage, Star Admiral," she says as she braces, stands, and finds that she was not as dizzy as she thought she was. Within moments of testing her balance, she was headed for the door out of the medbay, followed quickly by the Star Admiral. "Wait a second, did anyone tell the Warrant of that cargo bay that..." She asks as she notices that they were a lot closer to the bridge now than she was before she blacked out.

"Oh, yes, the Doc told him. The Warrant in question promptly shit a brick. Problem solved. Anyways, we've got some problems, so don't be surprised about the grim looks on the bridge or around the ship."

"Problems...sir?" she asks promptly.

"Our jump initiator and solenoid blew when we were in the middle of the jump. Changed the dimension and time we were aiming for, but not the location. Quite luckily, we're in the Terran L-3 Pirate Point, but...well..."

"What, sir?" Calamira prompts when he hesitates.

"We're in a pretty rough neighborhood. We're parked next to a colony with some bullet-holes in it, nobody occupying it as far as we can tell from the outside, and we're in a debris field comprised of chunks of at least one other colony. Colony doesn't match any engineering we've encountered before. Blast marks suggest we're dealing with people that know how to make and use some pretty big guns, but nothing to match ours, so we may be somewhat safe for now."

"Ah, okay," Calamira notes. "How long did you say I was out for, sir?" Calamira asks.

"Sixteen hours."

"Last I jumped backwards in time, it was a thousand years, and I was out for thirty minutes. If that is any gauge of how far out of it we are, we...no way, that would put us back so far that the Empire doesn't exist, and won't exist for at least another 16 millennia," she gasps.

"BA 16,000, basically," (2) the Star Admiral replies grimly. "Well, inasfar as corroboration goes, the HPG is completely functional but not receiving any kind of timing pulse from anything, including the Star League Trans-dimensional Fleet Beacons. You may very well be right as to where we are," Wayne concludes.

"All right, I will be dead of old age 266 times over before this ship gets back to its normal time."

"Provided we can't fix it, that is," Wayne replies. "I think we can, and that's what we're going to try," he notes as they approach the bridge and CIC facilities. "Ready to get back to it, or do you want some time off?"

"All due respect to the doc, I don't feel whack right now. I can handle it, but I won't be able to do my real job for some time. Magnetic stunning, basically."

"I expected as much," the Star Admiral says before he thumbs the control panel to allow him into the bridge. Calamira followed quickly thereafter. "Conn, I have the bridge."

"Aff, sir, Star Admiral Centara has the bridge," Commander Ward notes as he evacuates the command chair. "Sir, Galaxy Commander Michaels reports ready to deploy with up to one full galaxy," the Commander notes as Wayne takes his seat.

A toggle was thrown on the Star Admiral's radio console. "Carlos Michaels contact the bridge on channel 9."

It only took four seconds. "Bridge from GC Michaels on nine, come back," he replies.

"Michaels, Wayne. We're go for draft plan 6. Take a team in and check that colony out thoroughly. We may need it before this is over."

"Smelling that bad up there?" Michaels asks.

"If it doesn't smell that bad down there, Galaxy Commander, find your nose and screw it back on," Wayne replies diffidently.

"Right, boss," Carlos replies. "I'll be heading out in about ten minutes. Can we get some high-speed transport to the location?"

"We'll have a series of Dendrobium Armors waiting for you," Wayne replies. "CIC, out," he concludes.

Despite things advancing smoothly, there was no respite, of course.

"Conn, Sensors, I have an anomaly toward the planet."

"Sensors, Conn, go ahead," Wayne orders.

"I show disturbances in space equivalent to phase shifting on a small scale, definitely not large enough to be a phase shift from a jump core, but running continual. I also show...wait...whoa, sir, we got a problem here, I'm reading an antimatter flux planetside, continual heavy output. Computer's crunching it now. Also showing a second contact from that area, distinct second contact with the signature of an orbital rail launcher," he notes.

"Someone coming up to say hello?"

"Coincidental, likely," Wayne replies to Commander Ward's question. "I used to live on a planet that had orbital rail launchers, and you had to book those things days or weeks in advance, they were that busy. I will not bet cash on it, but the rail sig may be commercial traffic." He flips on the channel to sensors again. "Sensors, track for any signs of those contacts coming this way, over."

"Aff, Star Admiral," the Sensors Operator in question replies.

-x-x-x-

"An interesting colony design," one of the Marines says as the approach the colony in question.

"Sealed, no reflective surfaces to bring light inside," another Marine notes on the open frequency.

The formation was moving spread out in three axes, that way a single shell, laser or PPC blast could not strike more than two of them at once, and a hasty shot would hit only one. It was a translation of tactics from ground warfare to space, since surviving the battle still counted as paramount even in these days. On battlefields extensively ruled by the machine, the humble man or woman had to do their job in the hopes that they walked away, after all, or there would be no 'blue side' (3) to face off against the enemy.

Thankfully, in the survival department the Armored Marines are topnotch. Each trooper was issued their own set of Infantry Armor, Revision 5, which gave them immense defensive capabilities. A single trooper with full Marine armor and a heavy or assault shield could withstand several direct hits from gundam-class beam rifles, battlemech-caliber autocannons, and even warship-grade missiles. If anyone tried picking Marines off, they would have a hellish fight on their hands.

And so far, all things were appearing that there was nobody around to even talk to, much less get shot at by.

"Think the Armageddon Scenario went down?"

"May have," the Galaxy Commander of Marines notes coldly. "May have not. Sensors pukes were chewing on some stuff they thought were encrypted radio streams, but so far no dice as of when they left the ship."

"Great," one of the Star Captains notes. "Strange name, that," she notes as the float into the space harbor.

"Mendel, anyone recognize it?"

"Some rich sod that financed the place?"

"Or some poor sod."

"Gregor Mendel, geneticist," a Star Colonel notes. "Most people call him the father of modern genetics. Major work in studies of inheritance from one generation to the next, of which our Eugenics program relies on heavily."

"Why would someone name a colony after a geneticist, when they probably have hundreds of scumbag politicians to name them after?"

"About the same reason we name colonies in serial. They need a name, might as well derive it somehow," one of the less outspoken of the lady Marines notes.

"Cut the chatter, Marines," the Galaxy Commander orders. "I want one Trinary on the outside for inspection, remainder goes in. Airlock entry for now," which meant that they were not authorized to blow any more holes in the colony for now.

"Aff, sir," a Star Captain notes. "I want Alpha point of 1 star, 3 trinary inside first," he orders. "Bravo, Charlie points move spinward to those other personnel airlocks and start entry."

"We can put a whole Trinary of Marines inside at once by way of that cargo access," the Star Colonel for the Cluster that had drawn this operation notes as he indicates a cargo airlock. "4 Trinary, move to and enter through there," he orders immediately thereafter.

Fifteen Marines moved to personnel airlocks to enter the colony, though the locks made things real tight for them. Another seventy-five moved in by way of the cargo airlock, though there was room for at least another star's worth. This was the real touchy part, though, as a really competent enemy security detail could make the airlocks into death-traps for the otherwise trapped Marines, and an enemy military force could probably do better faster.

The two minutes of waiting came to a head...as precisely nothing happened when the Marines passed through the airlocks and into the colony interior. The view they got, however, was enough to dishearten anyone who looked, and that included the Marines still outside that were 'pirating' the inside Marines' view camera feeds.

"Jesus, just like the holos of Texas Colony from Earth Federal territories during the Fed-Zeon war," a Lady Marine says as she looks over the area inside the colony. Her M60A3 was held forward and low, so as not to be an immediate threat to anybody who came upon her. Not that there would be much question about a threat, since an Armored Marine is not a less than intimidating asset.

"A man-made wasteland, with buildings thrown in for good measure" another on the Armored Marines that had entered the colony through personnel hatches notes.

"This all appears to be pretty high tech, what caused them to abandon the colony?" Her question was predicated on the fact that the buildings and equipment in the distance did not appear to be low tech or low-quality.

"Galaxy Commander, sensor sweep shows no life-signs in here at this time," one of the Marines notes.

"I figured as much. Stand by for entry of the rest of the teams, then we will begin a sweep and clear."

"Roger that," the same lady says as she just waits there, looking deep into the colony interior.

-x-x-x-

"Thankfully, we can spare the time to do this the easy way," Ralph notes as he drifts along the outside of the port side of the hull on the _Thornheart_, a _Flame Eater_-class Escort Destroyer.

As vicious as it was in reality as it was on paper, it had nonetheless taken too much abuse to just leave repairs for another day, so the techs were out in EVA exposure armor with repair plates, nanotech cartridges, and plasma welders for space use. The oplan was simple: put the appropriate repair plate into the hole created by the enemy weapons (the nanotech systems had pre-machined the plates to rough specification), spot-weld it in at a couple places, and activate a nanotech cartridge against the patch plate to finish machining the repair to the hole and repaint the area damaged. The Nanos could even match the paint on the repair to the rest of the ship, they were that good. The process would take ~4 hours for the machining process, and 1 more hour for the repaint.

The sensors on _Mjolnr_ were back up to full strength, and a brief blast at full power was taken and recorded, then all electronics except a handful of local search radars were turned off. The results showed no contacts in the area or within a day's burn at 1G thrust, therefore the decision to begin repairs by nanos was executed. Which meant that a whole lot of mechanics had to head out and apply the patches and the repair cartridges to the various 'nicks, cuts and scrapes' on each ship, Dropship, and mobile army unit.

"Yeah, you got that right," Tina notes as she floats along with the welding gear and nanotech cartridges. Ralph was moving along the holder with the repair plates, and would hold them in place while Tina welded and secured them.

"Here's first," Ralph notes as he pulls the appropriate plate from the rack he was pushing along for it, then orients the patch plate into the hole in the right direction and pushes it into place. "Weld me," he requests as the plate get into place properly.

"Done," Tina notes as the welder burns the plate's corners into the rest of the armor panels in five locations. She loosed the plasma head to free-float as she pulls a nanotech cartridge matched to the size of the patch and slaps it dead-center in the middle of the patch plate. A thumb applied to the infamous red button got the process started, though it would be five minutes before the action really started.

"Think we're screwed or can we make it?" Ralph asks.

"You're asking the wrong superbitch here," Tina notes. She always qualified herself as a 'superbitch' for some reason or another, and so far only a few of her friends in Structural Techs actually knew why.

"Okay, what do you think, then?" Ralph asks in counter.

"Find me their command section and I'll rearrange their attitudes with a 5cm wrench," she notes.

"Weld me," Ralph requests again, this time on a smaller but deeper hole caused by a 60mm cannon. The patch was designed to fit mostly into the hole, the nanotechs would do the rest and fill in the gaps with damage material in the area. Hell, if most of the slug was intact, the nanos would use it as repair material.

"Done," she notes, then places and activates the nanotech cartridge. The two were moving onward toward the next hole they had to patch, and the repairs were twenty holes per team. Over 200 teams were out and about repairing the damage, though about fifty of those teams were handling the 'large hole' in the side of the _Hyperion_, one of the _Sendai_-class Escort Destroyers on the other side of the _Mjolnr_ from where Ralph and Tina were operating.

"Number three of twenty," this one was a shallow scratch, basically, where a Virgo had fired its cannon into the side of the _Thornheart_ at a sharp angle. Long and wide but definitely not deep.

"Get 'er done," Mark, one of the other Structures Techs, notes as he floats by with his partner close by.

"Get 'er done!" Ralph replies as Tina begins spot-welding the patch chunk into place.

"Got this one done," Tina notes as she places and activates the appropriate cartridge.

The travel distance to the fourth hole was short. This one was a direct, deep penetration.

"Round four—"

"Hold," Tina begins, looking at the hole strange. "Something ain't right here," she notes gravely.

"Huh?"

"That hole is way too deep for the caliber of projectile," Tina notes. "Something ain't right on this one."

"Whoa, you're right," Ralph notes as he tests the depth of the entry wound with a tape measure. It came out to have been 297cm to the back of the shell.

"Should we call Maint Control and have them investigate?" Tina asks, more than a bit worried herself.

"Yeah, might as well, see what they have to say." he checks the diameter of the hole, and even with material displacement the hole was only 65mm across, a lot less than would be displaced by a Vulcan.

"Maint Control from Repair 87, come back," Tina asks on the maintenance control frequency.

"Go ahead, 87," the Maintenance Controller for her op replies.

"We got a strange one here, a projectile that I'm guessing is probably only 30 to 40mm that sunk in almost three meters."

"You're joking," the Maintenance Controller replies immediately.

"Do I sound like I am? And no, it does not match a gauss rifle or rail gun round, those things are normally a lot larger than 30mm," Tina replies immediately.

"All right, skip that hole for now, move on with the rest of your waypoints. As soon as the extraction crew is done inside with a gauss rifle slug that did get all the way through the exterior armor, they'll pull that one and plug the hole."

"Shit, who said they had weak weapons when this shit was flying our way?" Ralph notes as they move onward toward the next waypoint.

-x-x-x-

"I am beginning to wonder if this is some form of crass joke on someone's part, or if this alternate (4) is so depraved that they really would evacuate a colony without due cause," Victoria notes as she approaches the ordered apartment building.

"Depravity score pretty high, by my guess," Elisa notes cautiously. She was even talking quiet, since she was in 'sniper mode' as her team called it.

By training, Elisa was one of the most feared forms of Infantry on the battlefields hounded by the Empire. Every army in Existence detested and feared snipers, but Elisa trained to be and readily was an order of magnitude worse than even the one shot wonders of the battlefield. The Armor Sniper Rifle she carried with grace was the true tool of the Armor Sniper, used primarily against matériel targets to kill the all-important pilot or crew of a mobile army asset and render the unit harmless. During the Star Empire Wars long past, the other five Star Empires had issued five-digit kill bounties for a confirmed kill of an Armor Sniper, they were that dreaded and feared by the enemy. And all because a sniper could reach out and touch the enemy at his or her most vulnerable, outside the normal process and control of military action, and with deadly precision.

Elisa had stationed herself with an overwatch position about 300 meters away from the glass entryway to the apartment building they had been ordered to sweep and clear. Her own teammates could not clearly see her position with magnifying optics and a clear cut to where she was courtesy of her C3 and IFF systems, she was that skilled.

"I'll bet it is something else," Helga notes.

"Clear inside the entry. I don't see any evidence of a trap from here. Clear to go," Elisa notes.

"So far it is appearing they don't know jack about defense."

"In all fairness, the thought of these people having automated defenses in a civilian apartment building is pretty close to zero. On the flip side, there is a bad chance of traps here," Karen notes. Her thinking was predicated on the thought that a competent terrorist force would leave traps behind for any persons or organizations they came back to investigate the colony at a later time. In some cases, this had happened in both the first and the successive Zeon wars, where follow on occupying Federation forces had been killed by the dozens by trap set by Zeon fanatics.

Both automated defenses and traps were a moot point. The entry team, consisting of the other four members of Elisa's point, encountered no traps as they entered the unlocked apartment building. Even the potted plants in the lobby were dead, a sure sign that the colony had been abandoned for quite some time. The team could also see on the communications network that the other teams were not encountering traps at all. This did not lessen their concern nor their alertness, but it did give them a little bit of a relief to know that whoever forced the evacuation of this colony was not himself or herself sadistic.

As the entry team entered the structure, the elevator in the main lobby was completely ignored. As a matter of practical tactics, the elevator was almost always ignored by the Marines, since an Armored Marine was typically too large to fit in an elevator, and there was no way out of an elevator except the main door, which made the elevator a veritable death-trap under the right circumstances. Instead, the Marines moved up the stairways after dropping off their assault shields, since the shield was too large for the kinds of close-quarters maneuvering they would be subject to in short order.

"Can we kick in locked doors?" Diane asks from the third floor. Rachel and Diane were sweeping the odd-numbered floors, Karen and Helga the even-numbered ones.

"Wait one," Elisa replies. The waiting lasted about thirty seconds as she passed her request up to the Galaxy Commander. "Negative, we are not authorized. If you can pick or bypass the locks, yes, no damaging the doors unreasonably."

"Roger that," Diane replies. "Move on," she notes to Helga, who grunted as they moved toward the next door.

The next door was not locked. Diane and Helga stacked on the next door, and with a tap on Diane's helmet from Helga's armored hand, Diane and Helga entered the apartment. The two moved almost silently throughout the entire apartment, sweeping and clearing each room to make sure that it was unoccupied. Despite the fact that their sensors declared the entire colony bereft of people, the Marines were not fools and were not paid to take chances. Every room, every hallway, every building they entered was cleared room by room, corridor by corridor, entryway by entryway. To them, this was simply another hostile environment to sweep clear. Nine rooms later, including closets, this apartment was declared clear.

"Given these furnishings, I would say these people were fairly well off. I cannot but wonder what caused them to abandon this colony," Helga declares.

Diane had already come to the same conclusion, though she was focusing on something else and did not acknowledge Helga's comment. She had found the apartment's communication terminal, which was actually very similar to the user-friendly communication and voting terminals and use in the Empire in civilian and commercial structures. The terminal itself consisted of a 10 cm x 15 cm view screen, some basic controls, and likely used basic voice recognition to process commands and make calls. The voicemail button even lit up, when it had a message waiting.

"Hey, check this out, this terminal still has a stored voice mail."

It did not take Helga long to approach. "Fire it up," she requests.

Diane hit the button carefully with her armored index finger. She knew that too much force could damage the terminal. When she pressed the button, the screen immediately came on, showing what appeared to be the inside of some sort of cubicle farm, which seemed to be the major form of architecture and organization inside an office building just about anywhere in existence; it did not strike Diane nor Helga as surprising that this trait would follow in this dimension as well. The guy on the screen, however, did not strictly fit the average businessman's prototypical form, with his exceptionally bright but somewhat worried eyes, goatee, and appearance of above average physical fitness. Behind him, Diane thought she saw something, but decided she was going to listen to the message first before trying to track something down that might be a ghost, or worse, something that she thought was the more or less reserved premise of the so-called "politically-incorrect" Empire.

"Hi, honey, just wanted to call and see how you are doing. I know it's still five weeks off, but our last one was early, so I thought I'd check and make sure everything is all right. I'll bring some dinner home from that new restaurant on 62nd, they do carry-out as well as dine-in. Love you, bye."

"At a guess, I would dare to say his boss is the kind of asshole that demands perfection from the company and all workers, and this guy was not supposed to be vid-mailing his wife on the clock." This comment was from Karen, who had watched the playing by way of their shared communication link. What one of the Marines saw and heard, everyone did.

Diane may have first noticed it, but it was Helga that first commented on it: "did you see the others? Notice the physical disparities?"

"Huh?" Diane's confusion was quite apparent.

Helga hits the rewind button on the terminal, then immediately paused it. On the first frame, the ghost that Diane thought she saw was quite evident, though not for the apparent reason that she thought it was. The lady she thought she saw had otherwise normal appearing hair, if a bit on the light side of blonde. Helga presses the play button, waits a mere five seconds, then pauses again. Again, another lady with long blond hair. Seven seconds later, a guy with blond straight hair. Three seconds later, a real shocker crossed the screen, as a guy with green hair, almost emerald green hair, crossed the screen from right to left, and Helga had paused it where his entire body was visible. Enough of his face was visible, though, to make a positive eye color verification as well.

"Four blonde/blue combinations, one emerald and Violet combination," Diane tallies off what she had observed on the video.

"Genetic engineering, and not for the purpose of battle as we do it. I can't tell if there are any enhancements, but most of that appeared cosmetic."

"There is playing God, and then there is playing God," which comment from Karen rather abruptly reminded Helga that just about everybody else in existence decried the genetic engineering techniques used by the Empire as well as their "sinister", "cruel", and even "unnatural, unholy, unorthodox, uncivil" full-encompassing eugenics program that turned the genetically-enhanced and artificially-bred children into almost-completely-trained military recruits by as early as 12. And the list of complaints against the genetic engineering and full eugenics program went on and on and on and on, most of which complaining Helga could only describe to liberal bleating, sore losers, and what most rational people called "the French effect": the belief that any given problem absolutely had to be caused by somebody else, usually America. Of course, Karen was not through doling out wisdom: "We do it for ass kicking, they do it for decoration. Somebody is bound to think that is wrong, which gives us a possible as to why there is nobody in this colony."

"Makes sense, remember the old history from back in the days after the Divine Wars, the rash of terrorism against the early eugenics programs? Somebody always hates genetic engineering, so they killed the eugenics in God's name or something to that effect. Ironic, that, killing in the name of a god of Mercy. How much more pointless can one's actions be?" Helga replies immediately. Some would think her a typical marine knuckle-dragger, but her heavily developed and trained physical exterior masked a razor-sharp intellect and a tongue to match.

"I will report this one up the ladder. Keep searching the apartments for more evidence, maybe one of these things has some evidence as to why they left in a hurry," Elisa orders.

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

It is the days after the election, and I am helluva pissed. All we need is a scumbag Chicagoan politician in there, and we're fucked. Guess what America just elected? A scumbag Chicagoan politician. It is now theoretically possible that I may end up dead due to the oncoming chain reaction of events before I finish writing my stories. If I suddenly disappear for some reason or another, without explanation or even a profile update for several months, wish me luck in Valhalla 'cuz I'll need it.

Oh, yes, the rest of the world may be throwing a party because Obama won. The average non-urbanite American is not.

Above and beyond that, I really should have had this chapter out sometime Saturday, but I've been busy again with a multitude of other things. Mostly cleaning up after the new kitty. Kitty plus bag of shredded paper equals minor disaster. Need I say more? I'm also still trying to get my voice recognition system properly tweaked into ready, but so far it appears to be doing good. It's hard to tell from reading the above, but a lot of this chapter was prepared with both keyboard and voice recognition.

And thus, the setting takes hold a lot faster than in the original. I think I got away with smashing three chapters of the original into one here, which gives a better length as well as opportunities to clean up the mistakes of the past, be more detailed in some areas and less detailed where it is not needed. I'll get a lot more opportunity for that come next chapter, as well as the first meeting of characters. Just goes to show that even writing from old releases, things can change drastically.

This is just really the prelude to the Mjolnr's real effects on the SEED timeline. Expect to see quite a bit more of the original characters from SEED in coming chapters as well as the cast from the Astray novels, the latter being something I wanted to include properly but did not at the time because I was still a bit new to the writing and presentation process overall. Two years can change quite a bit, I daresay.

There's nothing really special to note about this chapter, except for the Logic and Reason section below is quite detailed and wordy. Be prepared to roast some brain cells if you go about reading it, but if you want a good look at how jump engines work, here you go.

Next Up: Mendel gives up its dark secrets to the Marines, though any real reverie is cut short by the arrival of 'the locals' as the Empire's personnel typically call the residents of a planet.

* * *

Review Replies: Three reviews on this chapter. As of right now, with two chapters against 25 in the original, the rebuild has half the reviews of the original. I'd say that is telling that something is doing far better than the original, no?

**Etinenneofthewestwind**: The Admiralty's first warning about the unknown Mobile Dolls will not be for some time, not to mention they would ignore prior warning signs as something 'less than threatening' in about the same fashion that America ignored warning signs of Pearl Harbor. Funny how history repeats itself, no?

**Knives91**: The brutal battles are yet to come, if you think that is bad. The battle of Yakin Doe will definitely get some 'brutalized' out of this deal, and there were some 'minor' skirmishing done after the close of the original Jokers Wild that I never put to paper, but shall now. Stay tuned, comrade.

**One-village-idiot**: I did glaze over my first edition battles, mainly because I was not as skilled in writing the mechanics of a battle at that time. Practice solves problems, of course.

As to the MS numbers for each side, both outnumber the Mjolnr's mobile forces by the numbers, but they do not have the sheer quantities of Gundams, they do not employ effective Mobile Armors, their training standards appear to be practically nonexistant and they have practically no tactics beyond small-unit (platoon at best). I will give credit where due, but ZAFT and the Earth Alliance would get shit-stomped by any NATO country on equal terms, and get at least soundly defeated by most other real-world countries on equal terms of equipment. Given that, and given the brutality of the Star Empire Wars and the hard lessons the Magi learned there, both sides are going to get a very rude shock when they find out about the _Mjolnr_. Much less when the _Mjolnr _sends most of ZAFT's 'Elite' fleet packing home for mama.

On the use of energy-conversion and such, it is definitely a technology that shall be explored in depth, though it will be some time before that happens (at least in the storyline). I read up on Supreme Commander the first time you mentioned it, and it is an interesting possibility for execution of interplanetary travel, but a bit on the inefficient side. A loaded JumpShip can take live personnel and kilotons of equipment between stars, though with some transit delay from the zenith of a star's gravity well to the planet in question. Still, it has possibilities that I may be considering in depth in time to come...

I'll be frank on the next point: most people consider G Gundam to be the depraved bastard child of Gundam and Dragon Ball. Most people, that is. When I see G Gundam, I see possibilities. Lots and lots of possibilities. You have to admit that a lot of the Gundams featured in the show are just plain strange, but they would be very efficient at cleaning house in close quarters on many battlefields. As to the Dark Gundam, well, I am not going to spoil any surprises for later elements of my story, clear?

The Nanotech systems have not been deployed far enough for the mobile forces to have self-repair capabilities yet. As of this time, they are still implementing it to the _Mjolnr_, and using some of those hives to fashion repair parts out of scrap materials and trash. Gundams with the ability to self-repair will be a bit of a ways off, but will make a showing.

Thank you all for the continued support. The chaos and the battle shall continue, rest assured. I hope to improve the release pace as winter sets on and I have less projects to go about my time, but for today...I have a water heater to repair and computers to service. Have a good day, all.

* * *

The Gripe Sheet:

What? No gripes? This is weird...

* * *

Footnotes:

(1): Crass reference to a nuclear warhead.

(2): **B**efore **A**rrival, normally refers to the time before the founding of the Empire. Works in the same way as BC / AD does for our calendar.

(3): Blue side refers to allied forces, whereas enemies are typically considered 'red' for color distinction.

(4): Alternate Dimension or alternate history or alternate government groups, depending on context. In this case, she meant the governments.

* * *

Logic And Reason:

On today's logic segment, I'll be covering the art of Jumping, since typically the Gundam metaverse does not have interstellar travel, and that is one of the major themes of the MMC and JW chronicles. As well as the pinnacle and major ddriving force behind the Battletech series, which factors very prominently into the MMC and JW chronicles.

Jumping, in the simplest explanation, refers to a ship moving rapidly into hyperspace, transiting a distance, and exiting hyperspace at a destination. This is accomplished by an artifice known as the Kearney-Fuchidia Drive, or KF Drive for short. The act of jumping in this fashion is not a trivial exercise; the amount of power needed to create the super-magnetic fields required to jump could easily power a large city for days. The other hazard is that if jumping out nearby another jump vessel, if jumping back in near another vessel, or if jumping in or out of a gravity well, the conflicting forces on the jump drive will damage and may destroy the jump drive and or the rest of the ship in its entirety. Nobody said traveling the stars was a safe venture, after all. The easiest way to counter this is to jump from outside a star's gravity well, usually from either the zenith (top) or nadir (bottom) of the gravity well of the star's gravity field.

The Star Empires classify jumping in four groups: Class 1, Class 1A, Class 2, Class 3. The expenditure of energy for each classification is the same as the others, with the exception of a Class 1 jump which requires a bit less energy and a lot less technical sophistication. Though all six Star Empires have access to Jumpships, the two smallest of the Star Empires, the Dynasty and the New Moon Empire, do not rely as heavily on Jumpships to move from star to star as they do other means.

Class 1 jumping is the simplest form of jump that can be made, and often times considered the safest. A class 1 jump simply takes the ship from one star system to the next, with a maximum range of 30 light years per hop, with a maximum of two congruent hops if a Jumpship has one of the horridly expensive Lithium Fusion Batteries. This is also the only jump classification used by the native Successor States and the Clans due to their lack of sophistication with jump engine capabilities.

Class 1A jumping is the same as a class 1 jump in terms of destination: star to star. The major difference is that with a heavily modulated jump drive, rather than punching a random and somewhat variable hole in hyperspace, the modulation additions to the jumpship allow it to control the hole generated and lengthen the magnetic discharge, allowing for increased distance by a significant factor. Depending on the revision of the jump core and modulation systems, a Jumpship made using a modulated core can achieve distances up to 600 light years per jump, twenty times that of a standard jump core, though increases in such distances cost more energy per jump and require lengthened recharge times.

Class 2 jumping is a whole different kettle of fish from Class 1 and 1A. Where a class one gives star to star, a class 2 gives dimension to dimension. In this, the great Star Empires are the masters of the realm, for crossing dimensions is what makes them far larger than the great Houses of the Inner Sphere, the Clans, or anyone else bold enough to call themselves masters of space. The jump works on the same modulation principle that drives the class 1a jumps, though by phasing the jump as well as modulating it for distance, one can move between known dimensions by the simple pattern of phasing. The control for such a jump is actually intuitive, the computer does all the dirty work in the jump, the normal destinations for the ship are already pre-programmed into the controller computer or a new course can be custom-tailored by the jump controllers. In this fashion, it is possible to visit five planets exactly alike, the only difference being the order of the asteroids in the asteroid belt of a star system on the other side of the galaxy. This premise will be better explained in another logic article about dimension hopping and infinite numerical possibility.

Class 3 jumping is the most extreme of jumps, and the least used for very good reason. Where class 1 gives you location and class 2 the dimension, class 3 gives you the time you want to arrive at. In this fashion, many possibilities can come to mind, many grim, many diabolical. Normally, temporal jumping is used only to escape a very dire situation, due to the fact taht the ship's jump recorder will clearly record the circumstances of the jump and the authorizing party. It is theoretically possible for a ship to, say, jump back to 1930s Terra and suborbitally bombard the house of one Adolf Hitler, and thereby drastically change the course of history for that planet by rather spectacularly killing him. In practice, this has happened more than once, and many ship captains have been executed for it. All six of the Star Empires take a very dim view of altering history for personal reasons, and the Star Empires never issue orders to alter history as per treaties between each other and with the Star League. The effects of such alterations are far too chaotic to properly allow for such alterations, therefore such actions have been outright banned. The only authorized use is to avoid imminent assault to a fleet or ship, where it is presumed that a hostile party would be able to catch up to a target in the proper flow of time. However, there have been many reports of ships taking a single jump, reporting to the Jump Port Authority in their altered time states, and then simply disappearing from all known existence. The cause of these mishaps have never been properly solved.

The Jump Drive is the integral component of the art of jumping, and is the reason for the existence of Interstellar Jumpships and Interstellar Warships (as opposed to Monitors, of which the _Archangel_ and _Minerva_ count as Monitors, not Interstellar Warships.) A Jump drive at its most basic overview is simply a very large capacitor manufactured out of germanium and tungsten. When charged, the electricity is discharged at the moment of jump, usually into the exterior shell of the core, and this movement creates the extreme magnetic pulse that is needed to drive the ship through the boundary of space-hyperspace. Once the pulse discharge concludes, the ship transits back to normal space and everyone on board (save a few very lucky souls) is left feeling like they have a low-grade hangover or worse. For some people, the transit is too severe for them, which results in a condition called Transit Disorientation Syndrome which can be crippling to some people.

Jump Drives are not a trivial item. In standard civilian and military Jumpships (not the armed Warships), the Jump Drive (also called a standard K-F Drive or just K-F Drive) occupies a whopping 95 percent of the ship's mass, and it would not be unfair to say that the ship is literally built around the drive. This arrangement gives most jumpships the look of being a long pope with a flat disc at one end and a bulbous nose at the other. The downside of this is that while 'cheap' (when compared to the Warship jump engines), a ship basically serves nothing more than the purpose of jumping in most circumstances. Having only 5 percent of a ship's mass available for the other stuff does not leave a lot of bargaining room in terms of ship's amenities. Their more advanced brethren, the Warship Jump Engine (also called Compact K-F Drive) trade space for cost, space which a Warship needs to do its job. Weighing in at 46.5 percent of the ship's total mass, the Compact K-F drive provides for an actual warship to carry Dropships (and itself) through hyperspace with armor, guns, and its own fighter compliment. In this, the great fleets that had ruled the oceans of pre-spacefaring Terra had come back to haunt the planets of outside Terra for years to come. Nothing quite beat the plain fear of a Warship parked above your planet's surface, raining death and fighters and dropships down on the surface.

The Jump Core is the heart of the JumpShip and the Warship--without this core, the Jumpship is little more than a pile of scrap and the Warship is limited to an in-system operational profile. The core itself is a large capacitor--a tube of Germanium floating inside a liquid helium bath inside a protective enclosure. The Jump Core also includes a magnetic coil for executing the jump, an initiator to begin the magnetic reaction, a controller system, charging apparatus attached to a solar sail, and boom arms to attach to each DropShip or other unit that will be transiting along with the ship. The Star Empires and other similar entities add to the standard Jump Core a device called a Solenoid, which allows for more powerful and easier controlled magnetic fields, and a set of magnetic runners throughout the otherwise hollow core that allows the magnetic field easier control over the length of the ship. These advanced cores weigh less than the standard counterparts in some models, trading space gained for extended manufacturing cost and complexity.

For JumpShips, this core represents about 95 percent of the ship's mass--almost all of the ship itself. There is little room for crew, facilities, weapons, anything else that might be carried on a spacegoing ship. Jumpships do not even have engines for moving around in space, they have only a stationkeeping drive to hold position wherever they last landed from jump, and rely on tug Dropships to pull them from place to place. Some of the Larger JumpShips may have a small arsenal for detering a light attack, but this is extremely rare since most accords and rules show Jumpships as neutral vessels. On the other hand, with most of the ship's mass being the germanium pipe that moves the ship from one star system to the other, maintenance on Jumpships is relatively easy and the operational pace of a JumpShip is extremely laid back, a stark contrast to the Dropships always on the go and the Warships that are rarely ever at stand down status.

For Warships, the Jump Core represents about 47 percent of the ship's mass. This variance from the standard jump core gives the massive Warships plenty of open space to build a truly feared behemoth. First off, though JumpShips typically have some armor to withstand the rigors of docking and undocking ships, this armor can be easily breached by even fighter strikes, much less warship-class weapons; a Warship, on the other hand, may devote hundreds or thousands of tons to armor, giving it protection to withstand the kind of abuse seen in space warfare. Warships typically have thousands of tons of cargo space open to them, allowing the ship to have bays for fighters, long-term supplies, cargo for transport or material to be used in a planetary invasion operation. the Warship's smaller core even allows it proper interplanetary engines, of which a Warship can mount engines even faster than some Aerofighters. And lastly, the Warship also carries the much feared naval cannons and lasers that truly make the Warship a feared instrument of Star Empire policy, with guns that can weigh more than some Dropships and far more than enough firepower to turn even a Gundam into a floating monument to the pilot's haplessness. A proper warship is truly worth its mass in many situations, from negotiations to siege actions to space battles to plantary operations. How it is best used is dependent on the classification and primary intention of the ship, though many Warships are outfitted for several roles at once.

The act of Jumping has some unusual side effects on those inside the ship at the time of the jump. For most, nausea and difficulty with their sense of balance is the major problems. For some, Transit Disorientation Syndrome (TDS) is the casue of far more violent side effects. Intense illness and nausea, inability to balance for up to several hours, blurred vision, unconsciousness and in even some cases coma or death have been reported.

Also, the act of jumping creates intense magnetic fields, which in some cases can cause drastic shifts in the locations of equipment if not properly secured while in a Warship, Jumpship or Dropship. Innumerable persons have been killed throughout known space by unsecured cargo, most incidents being crushing or explosion deaths. Thus, before a Jump takes place, all crew will typically verify that anything magnetically viable is secured and grounded to lessen the chances that magnetics will affect it and cause flying objects of death in the seconds it takes to transit hyperspace.

A JumpShip is not a trivial expense. Even a cheap, 1 to 2 Dropship merchant vessel will set a buyer back a few hundred million C-bills. Larger, more complex Jumpships can easily cost hundreds of millions of C-bills. The largest JumpShips, built with capacity for up to twenty DropShips, some weapons, crew facilities and on-ship storage, will easily cost the buyer several billion c-bills. The price tag for these ships can also be tripled or more if a buyer wants one with a Lithium-Fusion Battery, which allows for storing an extra Jump Charge and allows a ship to double-jump in the space of a matter of hours. And the cost of a JumpShip can also vary wildly if it has a modulated core, due to the changes in the Jump Core and how much mass reduction it has.

WarShips are also extremely expensive and extremely prohibitive to own. Smaller Corvettes and PT boats can set a nation back a few hundred million C-bills each. Frigates and Destroyers, the workhorses of a space navy, will set the parent entity back several hundred million C-bills each, but it is not entirely unheard of for some of the largest Mega-corporations to have a few Frigates of their own for merchant escort and raiding. In particular, the Magi-based Megacorp Hessian Weapons Systems has several older Fredasa-class Corvettes that it uses as testbed ships for new weapons systems, for material transport and mercantile escort, and it has one modified Black Lion-class battlecruiser for heavy raiding and interdiction. Cruisers and Battlecruisers, the more common heavy hitters of the line, have price tags in the high hundreds of millions to low billions, making them veritably impossible to own by a private (non government) entity. Battleships and Light Dreadnoughts, the undisputed heavyweights of the standard-class Warships, can cost more than 3 billion c-bills and that without exotic drive modifications. The extended-class ships, Dreadnoughts, Super-Dreadnoughts and the terrifying Ultra-Dreadnoughts, can have price tags ranging from the low billions all the way up to trillions of C-bills per ship, meaning that while MegaCorporations do the scut work for building these classes of ships, no one Megacorp has ever laid claim to operating a Superdreadnought or Ultradreadnought for any significant length of time, due to the ship's payroll and operating cost per month exceeding the corporation's yearly budget.

And I think I've said far more than enough for one day.


	4. Say Hello To The Neighbors

(Jokers Wild, Section 1, Chapter 4: Say Hello To The Neighbors)

"_Absinthe_ from _Mjolnr_ Flight Control, you are cleared to undock from ship, egress corridor Charlie-two-Alpha, your station is uploaded nav area Gamma. Condition 2 rules of engagement until stated otherwise. Radio if you guys need anything, over," the Flight Controller for his sector notes.

"Flight Control, _Absinthe_ rogers your last, please give my compliments to the Star Admiral for the wonderful whistle-stop tour of the bowels of hell, over and out," Captain Holmes notes.

"We are undocking now, releasing magnetic grapnels," the Helmsman says. After a few moments, the ship shifts slightly. "Ready to release locking lugs to the _Mjolnr_, all power, fuel, personnel accesses have been sealed."

"Unlatch us," Anastus replies calmly. The process of undocking was routine, but the environs in which he was doing so was far from routine.

"Lugs removed, we are free-ballin' now, sir," the helmsman says.

"Thrust her away, set course for nav area gamma."

"Aye, sir course is in, almost like my—"

"Conn, Engineering for the Captain," the intercom blares before the pilot could continue his sentence.

"Engineering, Conn, go," Anastus replies.

"We got some strange shit down here, Captain, I think you really need to see this one," the Chief Engineer notes.

"Roger that, I'll be there in five," the Captain replies. "Oh, my, this is starting to really become the tour from hell," Anastus notes. If the Chief Engineer thought it worth his time, it had to be something really screwed up.

"Are we going from Hell, to Hell, through Hell, or sideways up Hel's arse?" The Navigation officer notes from the far side of the map table being projected in the ship's holo-tank.

The bent of the last part of the question was obvious to the Captain. "Be nice, Mister Spark, the Norse are one of the few groups that actually got along with us back in the days," he chides, since insulting the Gods of the Norse was generally frowned upon. Some said they existed, some said they did not. Anastus figured he'd find out once and for all after he was dead.

"Right, sir," the chastised Navigator replies, not realizing what he had actually meant until after he had been called on it.

"Commander has the Conn," Anastus says before he begins his trek down toward the engineering area. The trek was far shorter and significantly quicker than would have been for the Star Admiral on the _Mjolnr_, even with the motorized walk paths the _Mjolnr_ had in the central corridor. It only took him three minutes to traverse the length of the ship to get to where he needed to be, the engine room and reactor room.

"Boss," one of the lady mechanics says as she comes to attention. Though they maintained a mostly professional decorum outside the ship, inside things tended to get informal fast. Not that an order from Anastus carried any less weight than a command from a God in such a case, but 'sniper checking' was rare in a ship that everyone knew everyone else within (1A, 1B). If Anastus didn't know better, he would have sworn he had dated said mechanic a few months ago, but lacking ample caffeine in his brain right now he could not be one hundred percent sure if he did or not (2). Anastus simply nodded and continued onward, as the Chief Engineer was preparing a cutting tool on something that looked like a horridly deformed cannon slug.

"The word?" Anastus asks.

"Fucking nuts, sir," the Chief Engineer replies. "Get this. Standard 60mm lead slug, brass jacket. Same type we'd put downrange from head-mount Vulcans. Expected penetration no more than 1 meter standard armor, a helluva lot less on better armor like ours."

"Yeah, so?" Anastus asks, not sure where this was going.

"We found this thing buried over three meters into our forward-right armor plate."

"Whoa," Anastus replies with quite a bit of shock. "How the hell can a common slug do...huh? I'm fucking confused now."

"Well, that's what's got us as well, so we'd like to chop into the sucker, see what's going on. Shouldn't be able to do three meters, even with an AP rod in the center and an ultra-massive core," the Engineer notes, going on the premise that the laminated nature of the ship's armor would prevent a deep penetration by anything this small.

"Authorized, but first do a sweep on it with some powerful sensors to make sure you don't chop into anything really important," The Captain orders.

"Already have. There's a cavity from here to here, or at least a location with lower density that we think may hold part of the secret. Can't tell what's in it, too much lead and varying densities in between." He whistles across the room at one of the techs that was standing by a band saw. "Joey, fire up the demon!"

He gives a thumbs-up, then presses the power button on 'the demon', so known because it had already removed one finger this tour, and had a reputation for claiming even whole hands. Thankfully the so-afflicted crew now had access to a nanotech system to reattach the severed body parts, but in centuries past that was not always the case. A chart on the wall next to the band saw kept silent tally: "Demon, 8602, Crew 3457" with an obvious change to the last digit in 'The Demon's' score. "Oi, what's the scoring criteria?" Anastus asks one of the techs nearby.

"Every tour where we lose half a finger or more, The Demon gets a point. Every tour with no notable injury, we get a point," the Fusion Reactor Tech replies. "Had a guy lose a thumb chopping through some engine shielding plate last week, so The Demon wins this round."

The slug was carefully carried over to the waiting, running band saw, and the Chief Engineer slowly chops the slug laterally to avoid damaging the contents of the cavity inside. Everyone in on the examination figured they were in for a surprise when they opened it up, but not to the extent they found.

"Whoa, it's just a PCB (3) and a battery with some wires headed to the jacket, what the hell?" One of the Techs asks.

"No, something more," the Chief Engineer replies. "Here," he notes as he chops the larger piece between the battery cavity and the nose of the slug. "We thought this was a super-dense penetrator head, but I'm not so sure now..." he says as the saw chops into the lead with ease. After a few centimeters of cut the nose falls off, proving that the wires were headed toward the super-dense tip section immediately and that the nose was a heavy brute nonetheless. Another cut exposed the dense part of the tip of the exterior jacket, though what they found was grossly confusing.

"What the hell is that thing? Some kind of inverter?"

"A phasing inverter, looks like," an electronics specialist among them notes. "Huh, I wonder..."

"What?" the Chief Engineer asks.

"Give me a second here, I'll be back. Don't pork with it until I return," he says as he wanders off toward the electronics shop.

After two minutes, the other techs hanging around were beginning to get antsy until the Electrician returns. He had both arms loaded with gear, which he set up on the tables surrounding the band saw, and began powering the devices up. The first thing he checked was the circuit resistance headed to the lump at the brass jacket, and came back with just over 1 ohm there. Satisfied, he checked the specifications on the battery and board, and smiled. "What's so good?"

"Whoever built this thing did so logically. The device is designed to use a helluva lot of power, like ten amps, but the actual board is twelve volts and less than one amp. I can rig this thing to power up and we can all see what the fun is about, no?" he notes as he begins running new control wires from the PCB to the chopped wires. With some creative soldering and a little knife work he had everything reconnected to where it was supposed to be, and he connected a DC transformer to where the simple battery normally connected to the device. The battery made things easy, it had a voltage and amperage rating on it, which the electrician dialed into the device easily.

"Do it," the Chief Engineer orders. Anastus, like everyone else, had put on safety glasses but was watching intently despite the possible hazard.

"Power...on," he replies. Immediately the brass jacket changes color from very dull bronze to almost a silvered sheen, definitely not the same as it was before the power was applied.

"Whoa, what the fuck?" the Chief Engineer says as he pokes at it with a gloved hand. The round skitters almost effortlessly across the surface of the band saw, of which the saw itself was still running. When the slug's upper half struck the spinning blade, it bounced back from the blade after letting go a massive shower of sparks; the blade did not cut into it, despite the expectation.

"By the Gods themselves," the Chief Engineer grumbles as he looks where the blade had conflicted with the slug. "Not a damn scratch."

"Bullshit!" Joey, the 'master' of The Demon, replies immediately. "This is a nano-machined micro-tooth blade! It'll chop through pure ultra-dense Gundanium, much less a frigging brass-jacketed slug!" They got the best blades for the band saw from a retailer that used nanomachines to build the blades, but somehow the Warship had not been upgraded until recently when the Star Admiral had upgraded it 'illegally'.

"Here," the Chief Engineer says as he takes the slug and pushes it into the blade's cutting surface again and holds it there. The blade sparks for five seconds before failing, the turning blade loop immediately causing the hot blade to pile up on the Chief Engineer's gloved hands.

"Holy Fuck, good Sir Captain," the Engine Mechanic that had been watching with some others notes. "I do believe we just got shot at with some serious firepower," he notes.

"Hate to see a Gauss Rifle slug with that shit built into it, it'd plow through half the ship before it stopped."

"Guys," the Electrician says after Joey turns off the band saw without a blade. "Check this. This five seconds and change is where the shell was in contact with the blade." The part of his readout he was highlighting clearly showed one thing: the amperage used by the device jumped severely when it was in contact with the object.

"It's trading amperage for resistance to outside physical forces," Captain Anastus Holmes says. "If that had struck the bridge window, the battle would have turned out significantly different for this ship, maybe the whole fleet."

"Good Gods, could you image armor made out of that shit? Complete resistance to autocannon, rail gun, missile weapons, land mines, demolition charges, physical attacks. Does it work on energy weapons as well?"

"Here," and the Engine Tech presents a laser pen torch to the Chief Engineer. In moments the Chief Engineer had it in place and cutting into the device.

"No, it does not resist energy," the Chief Engineer notes. The laser had burned through the jacket and the slug readily.

"This is more than enough. Write up a report, full tech analysis. I want to present this to the Star Admiral within three hours. If we can duplicate this, we can give ourselves a hellish boost in battles to come." Anastus sounded grave and worried nonetheless, as if there was a chance of having to face these again. He would not know for a long time how correct he was.

-x-x-x-

The investigation of the building continued unabated, as the four Marines in Elisa's point continued the stylized dance of going apartment by apartment, room by room, clearing a building that logically they knew had not seen occupancy in months but would still need to be cleared prudently.

Upon the fourth floor, they found evidence that the apartment building (and likely the whole colony) had last been occupied Year CE 68, where a few digital calendars found here and there declared the present date to be 17 June CE 71, early in the day standard time. While not strictly speaking useful in determining which way to go to get home for the Marines, the information did tell that any bodies in the building would be three years old at the minimum.

"All hands attention, stand by, we have bodies at our location," one of the Marine points from 2 Trinary notes.

"Karen, Diane, Helga, Victoria, hold," Elisa orders immediately.

"Report, 2-Alpha-2," the Star Colonel orders.

"Hold one, still analyzing," the Point Commander reports. 'One' turned out to be three minutes. "All hands alert, I have four samples showing civilians killed by anthrax attack."

"Confirm anthrax as vector of elimination," the Galaxy Commander orders tersely, which really meant for them to test again on other bodies in the collection they had come across.

"Wait one," the Point Commander says again. "Test positive again, Galaxy Commander. These poor sods were killed off with a bio-weapon. Test sample remnants match Charlie-grade weaponized Anthrax."

"Charlie-grade? Someone buying their bio-weapons from the bargain bin at the terrorist weapons emporium?" Someone from 3 Trinary retorts snidely.

"Chill out, Third," the Star Colonel replies. "That may be as far as they can engineer bio-weapons...so far. Let's not encourage them to do better, quiaff?" he orders.

"Aff, Star Colonel," the chastised Point Officer replies.

"My point, continue operations. I have overwatch," Elisa orders, which did not surprise any of them.

"Stacked," Karen notes as she prepares to enter. The door handle had already tested working and not locked, so all she needed was the signal.

"Go Alpha," Diane replies, which was the code for the two of them to enter the room. Helga and Victoria operated under the Bravo team moniker, and Elisa typically went under Sierra (representing the first letter of Sniper).

Immediately the two Marines entered the apartment and swept it for threats. None. The two moved to the kitchen. Nothing. They doubled back across the living room, stopping to inspect the closet, then into the master bedroom and walk-in closet. Nothing. Secondary bedroom and closet. Nothing. Bathroom and small closet. Empty, though the shower was still running and Diane stopped long enough to turn it off, having to force the water off quite roughly as the valve for the spigot had calcified.

"This apartment clear," Karen reports as she looks back into the secondary bedroom. "Huh," the Marine mumbles aloud, looking at all the artwork, wall scrolls, centerfolds from magazines, and other triptych in the room. Much of it centered around a singer and songwriter by the name of Lacus Clyne, though not all of it as there was a healthy smattering of some obviously pop-star boy bands around the room. That more than most declared the occupant of the room to be a teenage lady, to which confirmation came as Karen idly checked a dresser drawer and found a stack of B-cup bras in the drawer. Either that or the occupant of the room was a pervert teen that stole smaller ladies' bras. Karen was not one to rule anything out just yet, especially since she did not have the measure of the 'Locals' yet. (4)

"Nothing of major note in this apartment. Family had one small automatic in nine-millimeter, nothing to write home about," Diane notes as she approaches the secondary bedroom. "And the daughter appears to be a typical fangirl," she notes as she observes the room.

"Oh, give it up," Karen replies immediately. "You cannot tell me you didn't have your own stars to which you paid attention," Karen replies immediately.

"Oh, yes, I had my stars. And they were, or are, or shall be, depending on your frame of reference, far more substantial and _useful_ than a pop singer," Diane replies. The strain she put on 'useful' caused Karen to grimace.

"Care to drop a name?"

"The First Six," Diane replies, which was not an unexpected answer to Karen. The First Six, referring to the First Six Executors, exemplified the honor and power of the Star League to a tee; their exploits and battles were more than legend, and just as powerful in the retelling. Their individual persons represented three conflicting pairs of principles, namely power and grace, mayhem and order, the darkness and the light. And billions of people all over the Star League and the six attendant Star Empires that formed the core of the Star League wanted to be an Executor because of their legends. Some even made it to that vaunted station in life.

"I'll buy that," Elisa replies after a few moments of silence.

"Bravo, go," Victoria interrupts their reverie, abruptly reminding the entry team that there was still work to be done. Silently Diane and Karen left the room, headed for the next apartment down the hallway they were clearing, and stack on the door in the same fashion as prior.

Karen reached for the doorhandle, but a warning signal from her Enhanced Sensors stopped her hand before it touched the handle. "Huh? Gunpowder?" Her sensors were highlighting areas on the door and doorframe where there was traces of gunpowder residue caused by fighting in the area, maybe even in the apartment. "Elise, Karen. Eyes on apartment 422, possible shooting incident inside or in the area," she requests and qualifies of her Point Commander.

"Alpha, be advised I have eyes on and am clear. No tango in visible areas, repeat no tangos visible. Enter when ready."

"Alpha moving now," Karen says as she twists the handle and pushes through with her right shoulder. The gunpowder traces made things more urgent, and Diane immediately follows her inside and turns left. Much as their sensors declared, there was no living soul in the room.

Dead soul, yes. Diane's aimpoint was the first to cross over the remains of someone who had been killed and left in the room. "Jesus," she notes.

"Is it always this obvious?" Karen asks. What she meant was obvious to Diane.

"Normally, no," Diane replies, having investigated murders before she knew what she was looking for. And this scene reeked of a murder scene. "Murder is an almost-guaranteed one-hundred-percent lose-lose crime in the Empire. Commit a murder, you will be executed for it, regardless of your 'circumstances' and 'excuses'."

"And I know what the second 'lose' is all about," Karen replies, having been randomly picked twice in her career to be in a firing squad for a convicted murderer once and convicted rapists twice. Justice among the Empire was swift and to the point, as murder, rape, treason, and a few other select crimes were always execution offenses. Some rules were not allowed to be broken, and murdering someone was one of them.

"Check the rooms, I'll start a forensics scan of the body, though the gunpowder, blood stain on the wall, and bullet holes in the window rather directly states how she died."

"Roger that," Karen says as she hefts her rifle, shoulders it, and begins the search in earnest. In the secondary bedroom of the apartment she found not the decorations of a teenager, but younger kids, two of them.

"Karen, my forensic scan is showing a second person dead here, a daughter to this lady. You checked the secondary bedroom yet?"

"Aff, she had two kids," Karen replies. "Boy and girl, looks like."

"Maybe the poor sod got away," Diane thinks aloud.

Trace gunpowder on the walls of the kids bedroom, with the highest density nearby the closet, told Karen otherwise. She pulled open the door to see what was inside, and was accosted by the sight of the dead boy, whose body was in the same condition as the two in the main room. "No, Diane, the poor sod did not escape. I'll scan this one over, but I can see the bullet holes in what's left of his shirt. Fairly obvious this is how he died as well."

"Alpha from Sierra, be advised I have forwarded your data up the ladder to the GC, he reports he will inform the Star Admiral. Make sure you do full reporting on their remains."

"Aff, Elise, we're on it. Helluva thing to run as this mother's epitaph, much less her kids last rites. Their fates boiled down to a report on the efficacy of local firearms in killing unarmored targets and the tango's willingness to use them on civilians."

"And no, Alpha, we can't win them all," Elise says to bring the conversation to a halt before it gets out of hand. "But, if this is terrorist shit, we'll kill them when we can."

"I'll settle for that, thank you," Victoria replies.

-x-x-x-

(Time: 1330 Lima (Local) time, 8 hours after initial scouting run of Marines)

Star Admiral Centara matched the movements of his Altron Gundam to the rotational frequency of the colony and thrusted down onto the ground to bring the unit in sync with the colony's artificial gravity. Despite his efforts, the landing was still a bit rough and troublesome for the Gundam to match, which was expected by both pilot and passenger. Landing on the inside or outside of a colony that was using rotational sections for gravity was not a simple task, nor a smooth one.

"I take it is that building with the four Marines and the Marine Sniper?" Calamira asks before Wayne pulls the control key (5) and pops open the cockpit hatch.

Never mind that Wayne had managed to park his machine in the middle of a street with less than a meter's clearance to either shoulder. At the least, the Marines were impressed and said so as the two approached the five of them.

"I take it yours is the first murder scene?" Calamira asks. Several had been found, apparently some form of 'bloodletting' as they all had involved sub-machine guns chambered for nine millimeter rounds. A few of the incidents had been downright messy, and at least two of them had involved a rape-murder combination.

"Aff, milady," the Sniper says as she comes to attention. "Fourth floor, apartment 422."

"Move out, Marines," the Star Admiral says. He was carrying an M4 of his own since the colony was not 100% secured yet, but nearly so. The five Marines moved in first, leading the way up the stairs toward the designated room, as the Star Admiral and Strategic Officer followed less loudly behind the five in the heavier Marine armor. Both Calamira and Wayne wore the Pilot's Armor, which though expensive provided the pilot far greater protection than the pilot suits common to Mobile Suit and Mobile Armor pilots.

"And here we are," the Sniper notes. She had pulled and was carrying a far lighter and smaller .308-caliber sniper rifle instead of trying to maneuver the monster armor sniper rifle she carried in small hallways. If anything, even the smaller rifle made her seem more sinister than she likely was or seemed to be in Calamira's opinion.

"I will take it from here," Calamira replies.

Inside the room, Calamira removed her helmet out of habit. She could still perform her job functions as needed while fully encased in meters of armor, but she preferred operating with at least her head exposed to open air. In this case, she got lucky as the facility air recycling system had already cleared the stench long ago, recycling the same stale air into the room and out the room that was in the rest of the colony. Calamira surmised it was the same all over the facility, given the people within had been dead for years the chance of their bodies stinking was pretty close to nil. Most of the dead in the colony could be chalked up to the anthrax attack, but not all.

With her helmet removed and set aside, Calamira knelt about a half meter away from the head of the lady that had been killed, and began her duty. Among the Empire, there were people of mental disciplines so powerful they could hear the thoughts of other persons at planetary distances, they could move, heat, electrify objects with thoughts, they could see and hear into locations without ever having been there, and even sense the events of strong emotion at a physical location. In this case, her technique was the latter-most, as she searched the area to see what had happened to cause the death of a woman and her child by gunshot.

Even years after the incident, the emotions were strong, strong enough that she could see the incident by after-image, in the same fashion that looking at a bright light would leave an impression upon the vision of a viewer. In moments she saw what had transpired: a mother speaking to her daughter about something worrisome, the door being kicked open, a man shouting in accented English, the sub-machine gun firing a short burst, the terrible pain of not being killed immediately by being shot until a point-blank headshot finished her, another man entering the room and going for the bedrooms, more shots, curses, and they left. Only three words really echoed in her mind from the incident: _Coordinator_, _Blue Cosmos_.

Calamira bolted back and to standing, in the process impacting the Star Admiral hard enough that he was knocked backwards into one of the Marines. "What? What happened?"

"It...it was...brutal. Two of them, Uzi sub-machine guns at close range. They never stood a chance."

"Did you understand why?" Wayne asks after a few moments. His imagination did not require much in the way of work to understand how helpless an average civilian mother would be in the face of a sub-machine gun carried by a half-competent terrorist.

"I couldn't tell. The only two concepts that came to mind were the words 'Coordinator' and 'Blue Cosmos', separate from each other," Calamira's voice was still uneven, and Wayne expected it to be. Witnessing the after-image of a murder was not a simple task as far as he could tell.

"Coordinator, as in the ruler of the Draconis Combine?" One of the Marines asks.

"Not likely, what would the nobility of the Kuritans be doing here, and where is the rest of the Combine?" the Sniper retorts almost immediately.

" 'Coordinator' may have to be left as a mystery for now, but keep an eye out for any materials on them. It is the other, the 'Blue Cosmos' that has my attention, I have heard that name before," Wayne notes.

" 'Be wary of the ethos of Blue Cosmos, for the path to hatred is based on genetics, not on the person,' to quote the Emperor's Remebrance," one of the less talkative of the Marines says.

"Ah, I remember that passage now," Wayne notes after a few moments. "A passage warning of the price of hatred, disunity, distrust, jealousy, arrogance."

"And of the value of having just one chance to do the right thing, and having the will to do the right thing when all hell is loosed upon Existence," the same Marine replies. Wayne's sensors registered her name as Victoria, and her rank as Point Officer. Given that there might be promotions in order in months coming, if Wayne was smelling the environs right, she might make a good officer several ranks above her present.

"Aff, the same," Wayne replies. "Still and all, Blue Cosmos was always interpreted to be a terrorist group, but what is their true aim? Usually their actions were attributed to something along the lines of a race war, and judging by your expression, Calamira, that is not the case here."

"Both were OWG by any other description," Calamira replies. "It has to be something deeper," she notes.

"Don't dig unless you want to—"

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Someone shouts on open radio bands, bringing all conversation to a halt.

"Who said that?" Wayne asks immediately. "Identify!"

-x-

Kari, Point Commander in the Sandstorm Trinary of the Marines Force, was leading her forces with her usual reckless abandon. They were essentially 'assaulting' this abandoned facility, a facility listed as a 'Genetics research facility' above the main entry. The first level was little more than waiting rooms and short-term hospital wards. At the worst it could be used for a makeshift hospital, when it was cleaned and recomissioned with proper medical staff. The whole area continued to show the signs of being an otherwise normal medical facility as the point continued delving into the facility with her usual reckless abandon.

"Wait up, Kari," Ranaldo Centara says as he closes up on his CO's position. "Now, you were not thinking about beginning the clear on the second level without us," he asks as the other three approached and stacked on Ranaldo, who was awaiting Kari making her move. They had cleared all the rooms in the lower floor, and found nothing more than what appeared to be short-term medical wards. Interesting, that, but not incongruent with the nature of the facility.

"Ready to go," Kari replies indirectly to Ranaldo's question.

"At your leisure," he replies, given that she outranked him by a margin but was not senior to him. Ranaldo had been on active Marine duty for over a decade, and showed no sign of quitting any time soon. The commensurate Elemental, Ranaldo stood 2.2 meters tall and could bench press over 600 kilos weight at normal Terran gravity. A colossal Eugenic like most of the Elemental Eugenics, his size was as much an intimidation factor as was the amount, variety, and size of weapons he carried. Being a big target was little of a problem to him, since he could carry a reinforced shield as well as the IDF (6) and more than ample energy sources to run it all day long.

On the next level, the floor area was limited to a ring around the central column of the facility and a ring of catwalks around the outside of the cylindrical main structure, with catwalks crossing between the outside and inside rings at ninety degree angles. As the team exited the stairwell, they split apart, three headed left, two headed inward toward the center column to begin searching the rooms. Kari was in the three-some with Ranaldo and one other, a demolitions specialist with a love for incendiaries.

"These pipes...coolant pipes for something?" The Demo expert, William Tell, notes as he touches one.

"Could be," Ranaldo replies. "Could also be temp regulation systems or just fluid in/out systems. Depends on the machinery on this level," Ranaldo says as he traces the path of the pipes to this floor, somewhat down the hall.

The first door they entered was an office for a research scientist that smoked heavily. They checked it for anything obvious, but found nothing and simply declared the room clear. When outside they continued clockwise around the exterior catwalks, the next room being a large conference room with some diagrams on the whiteboard representing the structure and some possibly planned facilities expansions, since the structure only vaguely resembled what had been drawn. A third door led to a locker and break room for the research personnel, which the three rummaged around inside for anything interesting and found only a pair of matched 9-millimeter pistols and a dead body of a female person wearing a labcoat, nothing more. Autopsy check scan showed she had been killed as had the poor sods across the colony: 9mm sub-machinegun, five rounds at close range.

The fourth door is where part of the pipes led to, and by stenciling one pipe showed incoming to the room, one outgoing from the room, suggesting Ranaldo's theory about fluidic in-out controls was high on the possible list here.

As normal, Kari stacked on the door, her hands gripped tight on the MDBS-08D combat shotgun (7) as she prepared to move. As Ranaldo gave her the signal, she jumped off and immediately swept into the room with grace. She made it no more than one step before she came to a dead halt, which immediately brought the whole stack to a halt before they could even see what was inside. After two seconds, the shotgun hit the ground with an echoing clang of one metal against another, clear signal that something was gravely wrong. "What's wrong Chief?" Ranaldo asks as he steps forward to attempt to look over her head and shoulders into the room. His 100mm short-charge autocannon was already armed and ready for any threat, but what he encountered was the same shock, not a threat. It only took his mind 2 seconds to really realize what he was seeing, then the inevitable reaction: "WHAT THE FUCK?"

Two seconds later: "Who said that? Identify!" Someone shouts back, but the Marine only vaguely recognized the voice and never responded.

"What the..." William moans as he sees what the other two did by way of looking just past Kari's shield. "What—what in the name of a thousand hells is this?" He concludes his rhetorical question.

"Report, Marines!" their Galaxy Commander orders sternly.

"What kind of depraved fuckoid would abandon a eugenics facility in the middle of a gestation?" Kari asks in close-to-a-whisper.

"OH FUCK NO! I DID **NOT** JUST HEAR THAT!" Someone shouts on the radio bands.

"You did," Strategic Officer Calamira replies immediately. "Feed 2-Delta-06 is the Point Commander in question," she notes. Within moments every other Marine had 'pirated' her visual retransmit by C3, and everyone could see what she was seeing.

The telltales were all there. The small iron wombs of a proper Eugenics facility, themselves surrounded in batches of centrally-regulated thermal fluid, each with their own filtration housing to avoid cross-contamination, and each with its own internal sensor panel. The Galaxy Commander of Marines, somewhat versed in Eugenics himself, could tell they had a good, solid setup—except for the fact that someone had walked away. And the children in the wombs were all dead, unborn and never raised, never to see the light of day. The instrument panels all confirmed that, but Point Commander Kari turned her sensors on the canisters to verify.

Every one of them registered dead, all the same reason: cardiac failure, believed induced by failure to maintain proper blood filtration.

"Requesting support...from the Strategic Officer at this location," Point Commander Kari airs on the radio frequency.

"Aff, I will be there in minutes," Kari hears on the radio.

It was not only the Strategic Officer that had come into the facility, but the Star Admiral, the Galaxy Commander of Marines, and almost a full binary of other Marines had joined them. The Marines had been tasked to continue the search throughout the structure and adjacent facilities, with orders to inspect everything, take notes, and catalog and collect documents for analysis. The Star Admiral, the Galaxy Commander, and the Strategic Officer convened at the canisters first found, since the facility had several banks and all had casualties in them.

Regardless of what Calamira thought, it was infinitely worse for those who were Elementals, themselves gestated and then born into Existence in the same fashion that these hapless souls died. Calamira walked in on one such officer, an Elemental staring at the third Canister on the right side, the monitor showing several red bars whose import was not hard to guess. His right hand held a BMG-09A2, the infantry-scaled copy of the beam machinegun used by Gelgoog Marine MS units. His left was on the rail of the walkway, and gripping said rail hard enough to already have bent it.

"All of 'em dead, ma'am. All of 'em." He managed to say to her in a level voice, never once flinching from the one he was observing.

She nods just slightly. "Sick shit." She notes. "Clear out, Marine, I'll try and discern why this place was abandoned. If they who are responsible are still alive, we can discuss options later."

"Find them, please," he entreats; "This shit can't go unpunished."

"If they are not already reposing in Hell, I think we can make an arrangement…" The Star Admiral says quietly. "You heard the lady, Marine, fall back."

"Aff." He walks around her and out into the hall.

Calamira began her process. Since the building had been dead for a long time, finding the last time it was active was dead simple for her. She saw backwards, heard and sensed just the same; the fear, the panic, the sense of impending doom was overwhelming, coming from the impressions of thousands.

The surge of fear literally brought her to her knees. Fear, in and of itself, is contagious. One person that panicked could easily so stir others, and the ensuing chain reaction could become a disaster in itself. In this case, that was half of what happened. The other half was far simpler to explain. An Anthrax attack. That started here, in this building. Started by Blue Cosmos. Finding the focal point took almost all her skills, but in the end hiding it would have proven futile; this one was relatively out in the open.

Calamira went to the platform intersection, turned left, and entered the main consultation room. She rummaged around one of the desks for a few moments, and came back to where the crowd of Marines was gathered. "Take a gander, ladies and gentlemen, of the hatred of Blue Cosmos."

"Blue Cosmos? You sure?" the Galaxy Commander asks immediately thereafter.

"Aff, 100 percent," Calamira replies deadpan.

"That makes them another anti-Eugenics terrorist group in a whole lot of them," Point Officer Ranaldo notes. "By the Gods, what gives people the right to say another person cannot live based on how they were born?"

"Don't bother trying to figure it out, Marine. There is no logic," the Galaxy Commander replies. "There is a solution, of course," he says, though the Marines figured it as much a prompt to the Star Admiral, to see how 'Magi' he really was on such subjects.

The answer was not against what they wanted, of course: "We're not going to bother going hunting on our limited resources right now. Waste of effort, waste of lives. However, if we do happen across members of this Blue Cosmos, we kill them as we do any other terrorist. Those who would perpetuate these manner of tragedy will be killed for their mistakes."

"You heard the Star Admiral, Marines, start strip-searching the facility, end to end. I want to know what was so special about this place to warrant a biological attack," the Galaxy Commander orders.

-x-x-x-

(23 June CE 71, 2000 hours)

"Eagle 20, Control, we have the last pattern ready. You ready to copy?" his controller asks.

"Aff, and is this the last of the last patterns?" Eagle 20 asks almost facetiously.

"Aff, pilot, complete this and the ship's camo is done, over," she replies.

"Ready for upload," the pilot replies immediately, having toggled the necessary settings on his consoles. In moments the operation plan was in his system and processed for nav points, grab points and drop points.

There was an art to it, actually. The Empire had throughly studied the space wars of the various MS Eras, namely the UC timeline and its offshoots, and in so doing they had found some anomalous battles where the Federation was grossly outmatched but still won the battle. Further inspection determined that the Federation had concealed forces in the Shoal Zones, be they asteroid material, construction debris or pieces of destroyed colony, and waited in ambush for Zeon forces to swing by. The tactics were not exactly brilliant, any sixth-grader in the Empire's schools could come up with that one, but they worked alarmingly well on the Zeon.

The Empire had no trouble adapting such tactics to their own use. Namely, the Mobile Armors used in profusion by the Empire were more than capable of maneuvering debris out of a ship's path, or with a randomizer program could maneuver debris into a random but camouflaging pattern around a fixed point, usually a ship or fleet. In this the Empire struck lucky, as the other Star Empires were less than properly expecting an ambush from a debris zone that would kill most Warships in a matter of minutes. After the first few times such ambushes and flanking attacks happened, the enemy fleets began spraying down the debris fields with energy weapon fire to provoke a reaction before they approached it; sometimes it worked, other times the force was able to holds their nerves until the enemy closed to optimum striking range.

And one of the things that Eagle 20 had done during training was take a four-week graduate course in setting up such debris fields, along with more than a few other MA pilots in the force.

In six days from settling into position next to Mendel, the MHW _Mjolnr_ (Hull designation MHW-6428) was now parked on the far side of Mendel, whereby it could not be observed from anywhere on Earth and was partially obstructed by the colony when viewed directly from the Lunar surface. What other concealment was needed beyond hiding behind a derelict colony was provided by the debris that had been 'randomly' arranged around the colony. And with enough debris stationed at varying depths around the area, a craft with powerful sensors would not be able to see the Warship or the bulk of tis escorts, which they were more than capable of doing using junk on hand. An investigating unit would have to get real close to Mendel itself to see the ship, but by that time it would already be subject to ambush, electronic jamming, and other hostile actions.

"Read the ELINT reports?" his controller asks.

"Neg, not yet. I am still going through the reports from the Geneticist on what they found in the colony. How about the cliff notes?"

"Someone's still alive out there, and by news reports it appears everyone is still at war right now. There was three major factions before this thing picked up, ZAFT, Aube, and the Earth Alliance, but it appears that the Earth Alliance crushed Aube. They swear ZAFT is next, and they appear to be preparing for it as well."

"Conditions on planet?" Eagle Twenty asks as he begins moving a piece of colony chunk toward where the Ship's AI thought it would be good to have it.

"Horrid at best. The Earth Alliance is too devoted to the war to provide proper sustainment for the civilians; there is a huge amount of unrest on the ground, and the military is suppressing rebellion in the name of 'the greater good' and 'purifying the Cosmos'."

"Blue Cosmos," Eagle 20 replies, catching the hint.

"Right. And since ZAFT is centered around some unusual colonies on the far side of the Moon from us, the war is about to shift up here, which puts us at slight risk of becoming involved," the Controller did not sound all that sour about it, however.

"Cute," Eagle 20 replies. His Mobile Armor was in excellent condition right now, giving him a good chance of surviving the oncoming slaughter as he saw it. "You know, as soon as someone finds us, we're going to have shitloads of problems."

"Honey, we're already there," the Controller replies sardonically.

"What?"

"Where do you want me to begin?"

"Whoa, hold off, honey," Eagle 20 replies immediately. "What's changed in the past six hours?"

"First damage report is in from the Jump Core, and it ain't pretty. Two years to repair damage, and that is even using the Nanos, as well as pure-strain material to make sure it is done right."

"I hear that," Eagle 20 replies immediately. "I take it thousands of tons of material?"

"Aff, namely Germanium for the core itself," the Controller replies.

"Fuck," Eagle 20 replies

"Oh, but it gets worse, sweets, we can't get a decent read on the Initiator for at least a couple months. The temp is going to be too high inside for at least that long, maybe longer," the Controller notes.

"And without the Initiator, oops, no jump core, not to mention an Initiator has to be custom-built for the core geography, which after this ours will definitely be different. Even if the core survives, we're probably still screwed."

"Well, worst case, we don't go home, we beat the shit out of the local terrorists and take up residence out here in the colonies, love," the Controller notes.

"Fuck this sideways. Whose leg do I hump for a ticket home?" Eagle 20 replies.

"You could borrow mine for that purpose, if you're half as good-looking as you sound, Eagle Twenty," the Controller replies.

"Getting a little corny on the comms, aren't we?" Eagle Nine says.

"At least it wasn't a straight load of pussy jokes," Eagle 14 adds. Given that 14 was a female pilot, that made the use of the word 'straight' a double entendre in and of itself.

"Hey, Twenty, Control, if you two are going to have any radio sex, take it over to a private channel, eh? Some of us don't want to hear it." Eagle 11 requests.

"You sods are no fun," their Controller replies in almost a pout.

-x-x-x-

(30 June CE 71, 1000 hours standard time)

If nothing else, the time it had taken the _Archangel_ to move from Earth to the L4 colony cluster was a refreshing break from combat and plenty of time to relax their frayed nerves. After all, having gone from fighting ZAFT to fighting the Earth Alliance for their lives in a space of a few weeks had made things rough on everyone, and the losses did not improve morale.

"Captain, what are we really supposed to find out here? This place is supposed to be dead," Romero Pal asks.

"That's exactly it," Captain Ramius says. "Nobody around means we can lay low, plan our next moves and resupply if the Junk Guild contacts with Morgenroete are as good as Ms. Simmons says they are." It went unstated that the crew was not completely readied for the next few steps, mentally and physically both, nor was the ship in material condition to fight an extended guerrilla campaign right now.

Sai could do nothing but sigh. His job had become 95 percent boredom interspersed with brief and very violent fits of terror induced by someone shooting at the ship. The continual swings of stress were doing nothing more than giving him headaches and the doctor was considering putting him on blood pressure medication to better manage his vitals. While he could not complain whatsoever that his life was boring, the closet thrill of being shot at had gotten old real fast. Not to mention his home country had just given up the ghost, the sponsor nation of the ship he was in wanted him dead, and the enemies of sponsor nation wanted him dead. Therefore, any way they went except into battle, they were screwed. Which was good for another sigh.

Since there was nothing going on and Tonomura had his full sensor panel up on his console, so he figured he could get away with diddling around on the radio, see if he could find something worth listening to. So, with a few shell commands he set his system to scan the airwaves and classify what it could hear out there that was not straight noise.

"Captain, we're entering the approach alley in the debris. We should be able to see the colony coming up here in a few minutes," Newman notes.

"Thank you, Newman," Murrue replies.

The ship continued maneuvering, heading around dense patches of debris and in one case a chunk of a colony larger than the ship entirely. Several of the colonies in the area had been destroyed using nuclear weapons after the Bloody Valentine, to keep the Coordinators from using them as staging bases and the like, or so had gone the logic of that time. Nowadays the thought of such did nothing more than turn Sai's stomach.

The results of Sai's check came back far different from what he expected. Both ZAFT and the Earth Alliance had their own directed radio stations that put out propaganda all the time, but those two never showed in the list. Over 100 data streams showed in the list, instead, each heavily encrypted, as well as one radio stream that was clear channel.

"Uh, Captain, I have something real strange here," Sai notes.

"What, what is it?"

"A lot of radio traffic, Captain. Most of it is digital, very heavily encrypted. This is real unusual."

"Frequency sets?" Tonomura asks, since the ZAFT and Earth Alliance always operated in certain bands.

"None we've ever seen," Sai replies. "Above the Earth Alliance range, below and into the ZAFT ranges. Has to be someone else."

"Starting a break on their streams now," Chandra replies before he was even ordered to.

"They do have one unencrypted stream, close to starboard, audio only. Checking now..."

" '_To their own shore, came the world war  
Gleaves and the Ingham Leading the bury west  
In their own track, came the wolfpack  
Gleaves led the convoy Into the hornet's nest' "_

"What was that?" Chandra asks, clearly confused by what he had heard on Sai's earphones after he yanked them off his head for being too loud.

"That was intense," Sai mutters as he rubbed his ears.

"That was some _Wolfpack_ by Sabaton," the DJ says after about a minute more of song, which sounded martial but rather depressing to him.

"What was that weak shit? Someone put on some _Dead Gardens_," another person says on the radio channel.

"Will the Turunn Fanboys (8) shut up or take your bitching to another channel? Some of us aren't Old School Zombies like you," A third person (this one being a lady) requests in a very tired fashion.

"Oh, that's freaking low, even from you," the same guy who declared the prior song 'weak shit' says. Everyone on the bridge was listening in fascination that someone, somehow, was arguing over music and not race. It was also fascinating because their accent was so strange as to be almost lilting, definitely not the normal speech patterns one heard over the radio.

"No, 'low' is trying to invade the ladies' showers for 'drainage maintenace' while they are in use, knowing full well there is no such problem in that shower block. That's freaking low, pilot, get your definitions straight." There were some chuckles and stifled sniggers on the radio channel.

"I concede the bidding, you happy now?" the complainer says.

"Only slightly. DJ, fire up something trance, if you will," the lady orders.

"Aff, milady," the DJ replies half-facetiously, unknowingly starting a trend that would take a while to truly catch on but would last a long time to come. "Here's some Haddaway, this is _Life_ (_Mission Control Mix)_, heads up ladies and gentlemen," the DJ says. There were a few raspberries blown before the song started in earnest, but the listeners were respectful enough to keep quiet while it played through.

Not that being respectful made things any easier for the _Archangel_ crew listening in. "Okay, these guys are starting to freak me out," Miriallia notes as they 'bid' on the next song. The winner came out to be someone who had a pretty good story about a drinking contest involving their officers at some place called 'the Sniper Bar And Grill'.

"Ladies and gentlemen, next song is some Crematory, track title: _The Fallen_. Excellent song if you're into all that kinda 'life is screwing me' angsty stuff."

"Yeegh," Miriallia groans as she looks at her console, which she had tuned into the radio transmission.

"Captain, I think I have something here," Chandra notes. "Radar sets, all in frequency and amplitude ranges wildly outside anything we've ever seen. Centimeter, millimeter, even nanometer wave sets, I show hundreds of point sources out there, captain, all inside that debris field to starboard."

"Oh my god, hundreds? Are you sure?" Captain Ramius asks.

"That's the different frequency groups it is seeing, Captain. And if I can venture some analysis here this signal set," and on the main screen what his console was showing came up, with one ultrahigh-bandwidth signal set was highlighted, "is a coordination and telemetry system. Basically a system that ties all the other units together, like a network."

"Every unit uses every other unit's sensors and telemetry for IFF and enemy tracking, like a giant spider web," Commander Mu La Flaga says. "The Earth Alliance Research tried that with the Moebius Zero systems, but it was too hard to get it to work right and they began manufacturing the Zeros without the system."

"Do you think you can crack it?" Murrue asks. "I'd like to see what these guys are thinking and where they really are, if you can avoid exposing us," Murrue says.

"Sounds like Mendel has some ghosts," Romero Pal notes sardonically.

"Ghosts that like heavy metal music," Sai replies.

"It could be worse," Miriallia notes.

"Don't say it," Sai says, having a feeling about what she was referring to.

"I can do it," Chandra says. "The Computer thinks this stream has 8192K encryption, which might take a little while for us to break, as well as figuring out what the stream has in it, but it shouldn't be impossible," he notes.

"Do it, then, but if we have to transmit anything to get in I want to know before you do it," Murrue says.

"Yes, Captain," Chandra says as he begins processing the streams on the main telemetry transmission band. There were other bands that came and went in activity, but Chandra and Tonomura figured those bands to be temporary transmissions from a parent or command unit to subordinate units. They were not incorrect in their assumption, but they were off by a fair degree as to the scale of it.

The magic happenings came in from the mainframe in the _Archangel_ itself. The most powerful quantum computing mainframe available had been shoehorned into the ship to aid in targeting and running the automated systems on the ship, and they got what they paid for. The quantum computer was also one of the favored solutions for encryption breaking, with a long legacy of such use dating back to the United States NSA's server farms. In this case, it took only a minute of processing on the streams before the computer analyzed what the stream was really for and began interpreting it properly. The computer itself struck it lucky, guessing from the lower-probability side of the hashes first, given that the encryption and authentication systems were engineered for months of hacking resistance as well as constantly-mutating active keys.

In one pass, the _Archangel_ had defeated a system that had stood for over 14,000 years unbroken by five governments far larger than the (former) owner of the ship they just broke into.

"Captain, I got something, definite contact with their network...and holy shit is it big," Chandra barely squeaks. "I show over five hundred fifty contacts on the network, most of them inactive, some down for repairs, a little more than a hundred active. I can't go any farther without spoofing into their network as an active node, Captain," Chandra could feel the adrenaline running through his system, the risks and challenges were giving him a thrill like none other.

"Risk assessment?" Murrue asks, knowing now that she was playing in insanely deep waters against someone she knew nothing about.

"No telling, Captain," Chandra replies honestly. "They may never notice, they may see my attempt right off the bat, I have no way to tell."

The decision was not as simple as it may have seemed. Almost six hundred against the _Archangel_, and that with one unusable Gundam and one Gundam missing, as well as her two best pilots, made things very risky overall. Additionally, there was no guarantee that if the shit really did hit the fan, she would be able to escape the enemy forces, which almost assuredly included ships as well. The whole scenario was a recipe for disaster, but Mendel was the only place they could stay for now and something told a dark corner of Murrue's mind to go for it. Logically, she was

Murrue had relied on her gut instincts before, and so far they had not led her wrong. She snap decided to go for it. "Do it, Chandra, see if you can, er, what was it you said?"

"Spoof their network? Here goes," Chandra says as he enters a character-number string into the authentication box.

Nothing happened for ten seconds, making him wonder if he just blew it, but immediately thereafter the target network fed out its guts into the systems on the _Archangel_.

"Whoa, instant data orgasm," Tonomura notes as the sensor panel immediately shows over a hundred contacts in the debris field, all as friendly/blue contacts. Miriallia sighs gustily as he said that, clearly disgusted with his choice of phrase.

"Captain, I have access to their tactical radios! Up on speaker!"

"Eagle Zero declaring no contacts my sector at this time, over," someone declares.

"Thunderbolt Five, _Mjolnr_ Flight Control, your element report to station Hotel for sentry picket, coordinate _Montgomery_ command and control for distributed command authority, over," A rather young lady (easily younger than Miriallia) orders a moment thereafter.

"Thunderbolt Five plus one moving to Hotel, roger and wilco," the said pilot replies.

"Sierra Nine requesting vector to landing priority, that chunk of colony took out more of my MA than I initially thought," someone says in a very clipped voice. Some beeping could be heard in the background of his transmission.

"Roger that, Sierra Nine, you have priority clearance to all open berths, emergency teams are on standby. Get your craft in here, pilot," another person declares.

"Captain, check this out," Tonomura says as he puts something up on one of the minor screens. "I isolated on Sierra Nine, look at these unit specifications," he says.

"Oh man, that is a Mobile Armor?" Mu immediately asks, reading down through the specifications, recommended usage, damage status, and even the maintenance logs for the craft. The Mobile Armor in question, a RX-78GP03(MR5) Dendrobium, was massive. "That thing is ten times larger than the Moebius Zero!"

"At least," Murrue says. "Warship-grade beam cannon, modular weapons pods, and even a Mobile Suit in the core of the armor," she says of what quick facts she could gander from the record. "Whoever they are, they're clever and very skilled, but not clever enough," Murrue notes, her last referring to the apparent ease of her breaking into the telemetry systems.

"Captain, Kusanagi is hailing us," Tonomura says automatically, before realizing what he had just said and what they just did: "Oh, shit they're on the radio!"

The whole bridge staff held their breath for the inevitable from the enemy telemetry systems that doubled as radios and probably a few other things. Five seconds later: "TacFlash, TacFlash, all points stand to, we have unknown parties close aboard! Definite source, definite recipient in the approach alley to Mendel!"

"Eagle Zero reporting ready op."

"Thunderbolt One reporting ready op," the commander of Thunderbolt sounded like he was barely older than Kira.

"Sierra Zero reporting Ready to go," this one sounded like an older officer and a bit gentlemanly.

"Flanker One reporting ready op," another of the younger crowd in Murrue's estimate.

"Blitz Zero reporting ready operation," this one was younger but definitely female, and to Miriallia reminded her most of some of her tech college friends.

"_Montgomery_ Command reports ready op," the CO sounded to be an older, wizened and battle-hardened lady. Not a hint of hesitation in her voice.

"_Absinthe_ Command reports ready for action," this one was also older, but definitely a guy. To Murrue's ears, he almost sounded grandfatherly over the radio.

"All forces, Commander Grey. Be advised that we are not authorized combat action unless we are fired upon first or parties attempt hostile approach. If this is just a random patrol, we may get off the hook without so much as a sighting as to our name. All forces set EMCON (9) until further notice."

Murrue had been watching the screens for the ELINT tracking, and immediately every signal died off _except the enemy telemetry and communications band_.

-x-

"I want some intel on the bogeys in the approach alley. Anyone got some Marines or a stealth unit in the area?" Star Admiral Centara orders.

"Command, Shadow Hawk Six, I can approach," one of the recently launched craft notes.

"Do it," Wayne orders before releasing his communications button. "Calamira?"

"I'm still trying to focus in on them, give me a few sir," she requests.

"Take it easy, Calamira. We're in a position to hammer back hard and fast if necessary, nobody is going to fault you if you can't get the read in one shot," Wayne orders. "ELINT, I want some word!"

"Sir, they're silent, no traffic, no radar sets, no heavy sensors, nothing. They must have been spooked somehow and went black hole on us," he concludes.

"Right," Wayne grumbles. "Shadow Hawk, Command, time to intercept?"

"Fifteen seconds to position, sir, request final sneak check."

The sensors operator gives Wayne a thumbs up. "Shadow Hawk, Command, we show your active cloak is five by five, only electronic noise is C3. Take it in, Star Commander, and watch your ass. Don't hang it out in the breeze without good cause."

"Aff, sir," The pilot of Shadow Hawk replies. "Five seconds to good position. Stand by," those five seconds elapse. "Command, pirate my visual, 'cause there just ain't no describing this shit."

"Pair of monitors, look fairly well sized to ours," Wayne replies. "Bigger than the _Riga_, smaller than the _Sendai_ or _Flame Eaters_. Can you get a read on those suits?"

"Aff, getting some data in now, sir," Shadow Hawk Six replies.

-x-

"Roger that, we got a read on the loose ones, as well as what they got hangared. One Mobile Armor, one atmosphere-only fighter, three machines we're going to classify as Gundams in the spinward ship, eight inside and four outside of the other ship that show as lower-grade, likely mass production Mobile Suits. Estimate no larger than a Taurus, equivalent combat capabilities."

"Those Gundams got me worried, sir," Shadow Hawk Six says. "The MS show as not having a fusion reactor inside, Star Admiral. My sensors think they are solid-state capacitor or battery systems."

"You have got to be joking...no, you are not. What the hell is up with that?" Someone unrecognized asks. "Those things would run out of power less than a third into the battle, necessitating a helluva resupply effort to keep them going. Bad joss, that, it's a major weakness for any pilot dumb enough to pilot one of those."

Murrue could do naught but groan. In less time than it took for the shit to finish distributing across the walls after it hit the fan, whoever these guys were had already discerned one major weakness of her forces and had comparative analysis of her warships to their ships. Or sho she thought:

"Uh, Captain, look," Sai says. "My screen," he continues.

"Yeah?" She gags immediately as she starts reading the file for the _Mjolnr_, a _Phalanx_-class Superdreadnought after replicating his screen to hers.

"Mother of God, how are we supposed to even scratch a ship that big?" Romero Pal asks after a few moments of looking the stats over. "That thing's engines are bigger than this whole ship by double and more!"

"David meets Goliath, film at eleven," Mu says sardonically. "The bigger they are, the harder they blow up in the end."

"They shoot, ram and die harder, too," Romero replies.

"Please, oh please don't let us have to shoot it out with those things," Sai says as he looks over the unit stats for Flanker Team, which was all space-use fighters of a type called Fireball.

-x-

"Conn, Comms, request immediate kill all external radio, including C3, from our ship," the Commander in charge of the radio room requests.

Wayne did not get as far as he had by questioning the logic of his subordinate specialists. When asked, he immediately killed the bridge squawk. "Talk to me, Commander."

"Sir, screen 14, pay attention to the last entry," the screen in question was halfway down the bridge on the starboard side, and immediately all eyes looked to it. It showed the C3 distribution of major command nodes, which in space action was typically warships. The first seven entries were all expected, being the _Mjolnr_, followed by the _Flame Eater_-class monitors, then the _Sendai_-class monitors, then the _Riga_-class monitors. Entry eight, which to everyone's logic should have been blank, showed LCAM-01XA _Archangel_.

"Holy fuck," Gerald Lightbringer says as he looked on with the rest of the 'really senior command staff' as he thought of Wayne and Calamira.

"That's literally a first, someone cracked and spoofed the Empire's C3 systems in real-time," Calamira says, since it was part of her job to keep tally and abreast of these things.

"No shit, sensei," Gerald replies acidly. "I'm heading out. If they're this good, we may need all the bloody firepower we can muster to bring them down."

"Gerald," Wayne begins, then halts.

"Star Admiral?" he requests after a moment.

"Watch your ass, and don't start shooting until after they do. This whole scenario may work to our advantage if there is just two of them."

"You are gambling loud and hard, sir, are you sure you know the stakes?"

"Life or dishonor are the inevitable outcomes, Gerald. All we have to do is make sure we fall in the former category," Wayne replies evenly, which was enough of a morale booster in and of itself to the rest of the bridge.

"I hear that, Star Admiral. By your leave?"

"You are cleared," Wayne replies. "Comms, continue monitoring their activities on the C3 network. Now that we know we have a flea in the system, we can use this to our advantage. We can clean up later."

"Aff, Star Admiral," the Commander in the radio room replies.

Wayne hovers his hand over the squawk. "You have them yet, Calamira?"

"I'm searching for the needed info now, sir," she replies. "I know the game, I'll talk to you when I have it."

Wayne depresses the squawk trigger, turning it back on. "Shdow Hawk Six, return to formation at this time. We have enough intel on bogey warships and mobile compliments, over," Wayne half-lies.

"Aff, Star Admiral. Looks like another Frigate navy among many, if I may venture a guess, sir."

"Keep in mind, Star Commander, that if the sandbox you are fighting over goes no father than the LaGrange points around Terra, all you need to hold territory and defend it is Frigates," and Wayne pauses for a few moments...

-x-

"I read you, sir," The Star Commander replies. "The big toys are for the big boys playing the game beyond the small sandbox."

"I can't believe anyone sane would think that," Dearka says over ship intercom, since the Buster was still connected to the ship's power grid.

"It's a psychological ploy," Captain Ramius says immediately. "It has to be. No smart Admiral would let fly that kind of intel or logic on a radio band he suspects to be compromised unless he wanted us to hear it," she continues.

"What's his game?" Mu asks for clarification.

"He's giving us fair warning that his ship is ready to do battle if we get hostile, but he's also in a dicey position because he doesn't want to be officially found, so he's not making any advances except gathering intel. This guy is _slick_," she stresses quite a bit of admiration into her phrasing. "Admiral Halburton and this Star Admiral would have gotten along famously, I'd bet."

The conversation on the radio continued unabated: "Yeah, well, when they evolve past the point of beating the shit out of each other over pieces of real estate on one planet, call me. I'll be in the bar until then," Shadow Hawk Six says.

"Oh, someone needs a monkey wrench up his arse," someone unknown prior declares over the radio.

"Star Commander, if they find out about you saying that, and they want to beat your face in for it, I will let them beat you down, and I will sell tickets to the show. Clear?"

"Yeegh," the chastised pilot replies in a groan. "Well, if that does happen, at least I'll try to give the audience a good show before they annihilate me. Gotta maintain the family record of going out with flair and all that. Until then, I'm taking a nap."

"Chuck Norris doesn't sleep, he waits." Which was good for some laughs among the other persons on that channel. To the crew of the _Archangel_ it made practically no sense.

"Criminey, how old is that joke? Twenty thousand years? Thirty Thousand? More?"

"More, likely," the Star Admiral replies. "Doesn't matter, though. Somebody stuck Chuck in cryo and just thaws him out whenever ass needs kicked. And if you believe that, I have a bridge outside the Admiralty Review I would like to sell you, real cheap." Which was good for even more laughs among the listeners, except from the _Archangel_. "Oh, come on, no bids? One bridge, slightly used, sub-standard neighbors?"

"How about a piece of chewed bubblegum, in wrapper, two paper clips and a bra extender," a slightly older female pilot asks.

"Sold to the Alpha Azieru pilot in Sierra Team!"

"These guys are completely crazy, cracking jokes that don't make sense in the middle of a crisis situation," Chandra notes drolly.

"It's more psychological ploy," Murrue says. "They're showing demeanor: they're cool, calm, ready to act at a moment's notice but they aren't going to start things. The jokes don't mean anything to us but it shows they're completely in control of themselves, not scared stiff and not panicky. He knows his stuff," Murrue concludes.

And still the radio antics continued: "Guys, guys, guys!" one younger and almost ditzy-sounding pilot puts out on the waves.

"What? This is not the time for a discussion about geology, Eagle Twelve," someone else says.

"Well, I don't know if this is germane to our present situation, but I'm seeing eight nodes on the Warship band right now, and I'm only counting seven Warships on our side of the debris field."

"Busted," Mu says quickly.

"You're smoking it, kid, unless...whoa, she's right, there is another node in the Warship bracket," the same punk-sounding guy declares.

"Harvey, are you spoofing command authority again?" A lady asks in a very alluring sing-song voice.

"Fuck off, Matilda, I don't spoof the command net during an alert!" The guy assumed to be Harvey replies.

"Guys, guys, guys, no fighting during a crisis situation please!" the original caller on this section of the radio notes.

"We're not fighting yet, honey," Matilda replies still in her alluring voice.

"Okay, that's just freaking me out," Miriallia says.

"No kidding," Romero Pal agrees softly.

"That eighth node isn't replying to most C3 Commands and polls, but it does have an identifier: Lima-Charlie-Alpha-Mike-dash-zero-one-Xray-Alpha, Warship's name is _Archangel_. It's the contact spinward right now, the one with the two wider forward legs and the large bank of engines. Looks like a badass piece of hardware for the under 400,000-ton bracket, but a bit thin on mobile compliment. Only question is, how long has command authority known we were being spoofed?" the punk-sounding pilot asks.

"Oh, some time, Point Officer, some time," the Star Admiral replies. "So, Captain Murrue Ramius, this brings us to the inevitable question: since you know we are here, and we know you are there, how do we go about settling this? I leave that judgment to you."

-x-

"And now we wait for them to respond, one way or another."

"Think they got the message?" Gerald asks by way of a radio earpiece that Wayne had donned to communicate with said pilot/command officer.

"We think so, the rest is up to fate," Wayne replies.

"We'll see what we get," Gerald replies with a level head.

"All right, Star Admiral, you know who I am. Before I continue, I'd like to know who you are."

"Wayne Centara, Human, age 39, Star Admiral, withholding my home nation and planet, any other questions?"

"You...you're joking about being Human and the rest of that, right?" Murrue asks. "I mean, being alien is being alien, but..."

"On the contrary, Captain. I am completely human just as you are, if a bit on the crazy side of human. Of this I swear a rede to."

"I'll take that on faith, Star Admiral. And that also means you're not Earth Alliance or ZAFT, so who are you, really?"

The answer was not even a moment in the coming. "We are lost, a long way from home and no way to get back there."

"So what's the big deal?" A prior-unheard guy asks. "Your light-speed drive busted or something?" he asks with a rather cruel snicker, as if it was he doing the joking this time around.

Wayne decided to play along: "Actually, yes, it **is** busted. Six hundred thousand tons of it cooked off in the process of depositing us wherever the hell we are right now."

"Oh, man," the same guy says. "Bummer," he concludes.

"Hate to interrupt, Star Admiral, but where exactly is your home?" a third guy asks, this one sounding closer to thirty than the prior one's closer to eighteen voice.

"How much do you know about interdimensional travel?" Wayne asks deadpan.

Silence on the radio band for over a minute.

-x-

"You lost me," Mu finally replies after over a minute of thinking real hard about it.

"Easiest way to describe it, same worlds, different history for whatever reason you want to imagine. My Empire exists among many of these parallel histories, moving between them by use of ships similar to the one I am in. Only thing is, we ended up here by accident, wherever 'here' is, and we can't go back because our jump engine is fried out. Speaking thereof, you wouldn't happen to have a few tons of Germanium you would be willing to trade for?"

"Eh, nope, sorry," Murrue replies, knowing that raw Germanium was not one of the supplies that had been loaded onto the ship at Morgenroete. "And...you can't get home without it?"

"Without a working jump core, I can wish myself home faster than this bucket will get me there. Now, if I may ask a question, Captain?"

"Certainly," she replies after a few moments.

"You are not with either of the two local military superpowers, I am guessing their names are Earth Alliance and ZAFT, correct?"

"Correct, and we used to be with them, but not any more. You?"

"We've been here for two weeks, prior to that we were jumped by a force that outnumbered us practically six to one. We won, but because of the battle we're here now, no way to get home, no way to call for a tow."

"I still don't believe this crap," Dearka says, earning not just a groan from Miriallia for shooting his mouth off, but a facepalm from her as well.

"You don't believe it? Bring a flashlight and a hard hat over here, I'll pop a maintenance access into the core for you to take a long, hard look. How's that grab you, kid?"

"I'll be over there in twenty minutes," Dearka promises, more than willing to try and call this joker's bluff.

"Can't let the kid go alone, so I'll head over with him," Mu says.

"You don't object if several of us come over to take a look and talk to you about this?" Murrue asks, since she couldn't very well let her whole Mobile compliment go in alone.

"How many you want to come and take a look at a million and change tons of scrap jump core, come on over," Star Admiral Centara replies. "It'll look as depressing as it sounds, trust me."

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

Unlike the last time I went through this minefield, I am now using the official SEED timeline to help coordinate dates, times, and actions, making it more of a realistic link to SEED. The show doesn't properly show time and they cut around for the sake of expediency, but the timeline on GundamOfficial is logical. Logic gives me something to work with, and I always like that.

Last time through, someone suggested that there would be less shock from meeting humans from an alternate history than was shown in the original, so I went about running on that assumption, and this is where I came out. Dearka being a smartass, Kira and Athrun nowhere in sight, Miriallia about ready to strangle the blonde Buster pilot, Chandra having hacked the unhackable, and the Star Admiral that got momentarily pissed off when a brat pilot less than half his age called him a liar. Fun times indeed. Also, this section is a lot less cluttered with tech details due to the use of footnotes, one of the major complaints from my prior work, which I will implement in further revisions as well.

Revisions are fun, especially when you can play with prose and plotline (within reason)! Other than that, I have nothing major to note at this time.

NEXT UP: the Archangel crew gets a crash course in Jump Physics, Interdimensional theory, and what Calamira really is, as well as why former personnel of your ship makes dangerous enemies...

* * *

Review Replies: Three replies from frequent customers, always a pleasure gentlemen.

FraserMage: You may be right on more than one level, and still undershooting the reality to come. Also, going to and from the colonies is the work of a short-range shuttle in Battletech parlance, imagine how easy it will be for the _Mjolnr_ itself, which has a maximum of 3.03G burn speed. (Ref the frigate disparage one of the Gundam pilots said above)

Knightowl 4183: Always a pleasure, Knightowl. Stay tuned, thing will get infinitely more clear and far more brutal in chapters to come.

Necroblade: As I stated in reply, the fighters and MS are usually going to be more effective in a fight due to technological disparity, as well as raw training. Magi pilots train for years before they are loosed into the ranks, and as the pilot continues in duty he advances by combat, so even at perfect peace with the other Star Empires the pilots are still subject to battle. Training will prove to be the master of the battlefields to come, and both the EA and ZAFT are going to get a harsh lesson in its value.

* * *

The Gripe Sheet:

No complaints from the last chapter.

* * *

Footnotes:

(1A): It is a linguistic nuance of the Magi that when referencing divine authorities, the plural Gods is typically used, in deference to the fact that there are more than a few Religions that declare the supreme being, and any or all of them may be right. Thus the premise of multiple beings is respected; Magi take no chances on offending one of them and blowing their chances later in life.

(1B): 'Sniper Checking' is referring to saluting or otherwise drawing attention to officers that may incur a sniper round. This is discouraged as enemy tactics are to prefer taking out Magi command and control assets first, then the regular forces in question. For most purposes among the Magi, simply coming to attention is enough acknowledgement of an officer.

(2): Another premise of Magi military structure: there is no real division between enlisted and officers, both are considered to be of the same structuring group. Therefore, fraternization above or below one's rank is not illegal.

(3): **P**rinted **C**ircuit **B**oard, more or less most electronics boards made nowadays. Typically green with silver or gold contacts. May have other things attached to it, like microchips or expansion cards.

(4): Locals is the Magi reference to persons in a geographic area, usually not used in any larger reference than a planet and its nearby colonies.

(5): Control Key is a Magi mobile forces safeguard. The key is typically a mount bracket for the pilot's codex necklace to allow battle data to be recorded on the fly by the machine's control computer and prevent use of the machine without the key. A static key exists for each machine as well, allowing the machine to be used by someone other than the normal pilot if necessary. These static keys are typically secured inside the machine somewhere not in the cockpit and are normally accessible by the mechanics. As an absolute last resort, an artificial intelligence entity can bypass the key check but this also causes damage to some subsystems inside the machine and is very rarely used.

(6): **I**nertial **D**ampening **F**ield, a spatial anomaly field that slows down moving objects above a certain threshold of speed. Especially useful against kinetic energy penetrators, as the effect on the object slowed increases with the velocity of the object being slowed. Not used on Mobile Army units or larger due to the fact that the field becomes unstable and increasingly less effective when expanded beyond a 3 meter shell around the point of origin

(7): Magi Double Barreled Shotgun, Revision 8, Drum-fed. The 08 variant of this venerable shotgun line is select-fire, capable of being used full-auto, semi-auto, or single selectable barrel. Drum magazine holds 15 rounds per barrel of 10-gauge shells. Very effective against unarmored targets and even of some utility against heavier when used with slug, sabot or explosive shells.

(8): 'Turunn Fanboys' is in reference to the original lead vocalist of the band Nightwish, Tarja Turunn, who when replaced with Annette Olzon generated a massive backlash from fans loyal to the original singer. Despite this, the band continues being very popular in the 'non-mainstream' music groups. The Magi in particular have a very long tradition of listening to Nightwish, and many can be classified as Turunn Fanboys under this definition.

(9): **EM**mission **CON**trol: turning off all electronic devices that put out a notable broadcast.

* * *

Logic And Reason:

Picket Lines, Defensive Patrols, Fleet Bubbles, and Mutual Support Zones

These four terms may seem similar on first gander, but each refers to a different set of tactics and philosophy pertaining to space battle, as well as each requires a totally different approach to counter. For the record, all four of these tactics are primarily defensive, not offensive, though they can be used aggressively if the commanding officer of the force in question has the balls to do so and a well-trained force to use them with.

Picket Lines is the most simple of the three main defensive bulwarks, and under most circumstances it is also the most vulnerable tactic of them all. A picket line simply refers to a defensive palisade built in two or rarely three dimensions of forces, arrayed in one direction, with all forces responsible for handling forces in the axis of advance of the picket. Additionally, perimeter forces will also be responsible for guarding their perimeter zone, so if a ship and its mobile compliment is on the left flank of a picket line, that ship would be responsible for forward action as well as covering the left flank and making sure no enemy forces get in behind the line to cause havoc. The major strength of a picket line is that it is directional, ergo the whole force is focused in one direction and natively attacks in that direction, meaning anything caught in front of the force is hamburger. The secondary strength of a picket line is that it is infinitely scalable; a picket can be done by as little as two units and as many as your whole navy. The major and crippling weakness of a picket, however, is also its major strength, in that being directional once the force is flanked it is all over and the only thing left is the screaming. In strategic terms, this tactic is common of ZAFT forces on the defensive and both ZAFT or the Earth Alliance forces on the offensive.

Defensive Patrols are a significantly more complex tactic and requires more flexibility from the unit in question, but in so doing provides a far larger ability to defend and counterattack in every direction, but not always with crippling strength. Unlike the palisade, there is no really fixed large-scale formation to defensive patrols, as subordinate units typically are in motion around the command elements to which they are attached, constantly changing their vector and velocity to provide the maximum area coverage allotted to them in their patrol route. This is the main strength of a patrol: as they move, they are constantly searching their areas assigned for hostile contacts, making surprise a far less likely event for the patrolling force. This motion and required spacing, however, are the great weaknesses of the patrol plan, since the minimum effective patrol radius cannot be smaller than the maximum range of the enemy weapon systems, or all an enemy needs do is park at his maximum range and bombard the asset being patrolled around. Additionally, this operation plan requires a significant amount of forces to patrol in every direction, as well as early warning assets, to provide the necessary striking power to stall an attack while the rest of the forces get in place to stop it outright without compromising the rest of the patrol, or the protected entity becomes vulnerable to a secondary attack vector. Additionally, a patrol system can be considered scalable to multiple layers, provided enough forces are available to do the job, making surprise even less likely for the defending party and an effective offense infinitely harder. Typically, both ZAFT and the Earth Alliance use patrols around fixed ground locations, though in space the Earth Alliance is more reliant on their sensor systems, whereas ZAFT practices some minor patrolling and early warning techniques.

Fleet Bubbles are the most complex of defensive practice, as well as the most cohesive and powerful in defense. Unlike the prior two formations, the fleet bubble is not really rigid in application, as the positions of ships, mobile forces and fighters can be adjusted on the fly to suit combat necessities, whereas adjusting patrols requires time and changes vulnerability during that change. Fleet Bubbles consist of concentric rings of force stations, with the protected asset or main fleet ship in the center, the main combat warships forming the next outward ring, followed by the mobile forces screen. The rings are always arrayed in three dimensions, commonly called shells or spheres, providing coverage in every direction from every layer, meaning that an attacking force has to hammer its way through several concentric rings of firepower to get to the center assets, and even if they do get to the center they risk counterattack from the other vectors that are not tied up. The major strength of this tactic is that it provides flexible, scalable, all-direction defense for a fleet, meaning that flanking a fleet bubble is nearly impossible and almost always suicidal. The major downside of this tactic is that it requires flexibility for the involved forces of a level not commonly seen among contemporary naval forces, and this tactic also requires an honest-to-the-Gods fleet comprised of multiple capital assets with a large compliment of mobile forces both active and on standby for rapid reaction. Excellent command and coordination is a must for a fleet bubble, as the commander that moves from his position at the wrong time exposes the next shell inward to a penetrating attack as well as exposes his own forces' flank or rear to the enemy. In practice, ZAFT does not use the fleet bubble tactic at all, as their command and control structure lacks the depth or strategic acumen to array a large amount of capital ships into a cohesive fleet. Additionally, only under the hands of an expert Admiral does the Earth Alliance use this tactic, most notably Admiral Halburton, though it is also arguable that Admiral Sutherland tries to do so during the battle of Yakin Doe and fails at it. The only failing point Halburton had in using a fleet bubble tactic against the Le Creuset Team was that the Gundams simply blitzed the bubble, pushing through the defenses in a rapier-style assault to attempt to attack the Archangel, and Halburton's mobile forces were unable to stop them in the attack.

The fourth tactic, Mutual Support Zones, is not so much a defensive formation as it is a defensive philosophy and modifier to how the other formations are arranged. In common practice, formations are arrayed as wide as possible that they cover the most front possible, giving them the appearance of a larger size than they actually have. Mutual Support philosophy is the exact opposite: formations are tightened up to the maximum interval that forces are apart from each other but still capable of providing fire support and assistance to neighboring units. This reduces the cross-section of a force and makes it look smaller than it actually is, as well as focuses more of its firepower into a smaller cross section to maximize fire on target. In this fashion, an enemy that attacks the defensive formation has to face the guns of up to three units at once, making attacking any given area of a formation a dicey proposition at best, and guaranteed suicide at worst. The major downside to this is the fact that it has a reduced cross-section, making for a more dense front and therefore allowing an enemy to envelop the formation easier. In practice, this tactic is used to an extent by ZAFT, and in limited amount by the Earth Alliance, though the main provenders of this tactic are the Three Ships Alliance, who use the tactic to great success in the battle of Mendel.

Magi Naval forces have learned their lessons of naval combat in millennia past from many early defeats in space combat, and it is standard training that Magi learn the appropriate way to structure each formation and when to use them. A standard operations fleet consisting of two _Phalanx_-class ships, four battleships or battlecruisers (typically _Leviathan II, Texas_ or _McKenna_-class ships), and up to twenty smaller Warships and Monitors will operate using all three defensive tactics in a Mutual Support clustering: a fleet bubble surrounded by an active patrol zone with a picket line forward along their axis of advance or along the axis of a known or suspected enemy attack. This array provides a massive amount of defensive frontage as well as a strong forward guard or offense, depending on the fleet's assigned mission at the time. The downside of this tactic is that it literally requires hundreds of active fighters, mobile suits, Gundams, and Mobile Armors at any given time to complete the patrols, picket and defense bubble, and that above and beyond the warships and monitors themselves. Such deploy operations usually measure their fuel consumption in the thousands of tons per day, which does not make the eco-weenies happy but makes the enemy about to be assaulted by the fleet even less happy and usually very skiddish. For this reason a fleet will typically deploy with large amounts of tanker-only Dropships, in the Magi case they would be _Guild-II_ class Dropships each carrying over 50,000 tons of fuel per ship, and would be periodically resupplied during a patrol run by relays of Jumpship convoys carrying food, ammo, supplies, parts and more fuel.

The _Mjolnr_, in contrast, tends to focus its efforts into a tighter fleet bubble and use long-range sensor systems to guard against intrusions. In this fashion Star Admiral Centara gives himself the maximum response time possible as well as several overlapping fields of fire, at the cost of possibly having an enemy able to range to any point in his fleet with long-range fire. Though typically considered bad form, in practice it provides excellent fire density especially from the _Mjolnr_ and its escort Monitors, as well as very short cross-fleet response times for mobile force assets. This tactic is hedged against the bet that an enemy commander would not have the time to capitalize on his formation's density before his warship has been raked several times over by capital fire from the _Mjolnr_ and the nearby Monitors.

Just a quick primer on space defensive tactics :P

* * *

TRO Section:

No TRO to deploy today. No unit really took a starring role today or kicked major portions of ass. Stay tuned, however, some real crowd-pleasers will be along in the next chapter :P


	5. Fast Breaks, Insane Belief, Slow Torture

(05: Fast Breaks, Insane Belief, Slow Torture, Cold Hard Reality)

"This is freaking insane," Dearka says for not the first and probably not the last time.

"I know. The amount of resources and manpower that went into making a ship this big could make two colonies, at least," Mu thinks aloud, staring at the broadside (literally) of the _Mjolnr_ as he flew down the starboard flank of the long and 'slender' Superdreadnought, headed for the far end of the ship nearby the bridge. They had approached from stern of the ship, flying across the presently-silent engines, where each of the engine nacelles was literally so large that the Buster could stand on the shoulders of the Strike and the pair could fly into the engine cavity without a chance of scraping the sides or running into any part of the engine until they got to the combustion chamber. To point:

"The maneuvering nozzles on this thing are bigger than the engines on the _Archangel_," Dearka notes as they flew by one that had lit off momentarily to keep station nearby the colony. He knew all about the _Archangel_'s engines, he had tried and even a few times succeeded in blowing them apart before he was defeated by the _Archangel_ and forced to surrender. Which had led to a change of heart toward the crew that he had tried to kill...which led to here.

"I'd hate to have to find out how powerful these weapons arrays are," Mu says as they continued the trek towards the landing bay designated for their use. They were passing the central section of the ship, commonly called the broadside, and in so doing passed within touching distance of paired massive naval cannons on the centerline of the broadside in a sponson assembly (1), as well as a twin to the first gun on the same plane another 300 meters down the length of the ship. Of the two gun turrets, there were also matching cannons higher on the ship's carapace, and matching turrets lower on the ship in positions where they could fire straight down to quite a bit of a ways up in the case of the lower guns, and straight vertical to most the way down, allowing for impressive fields of fire. The same structuring and emplacement also applied to four turrets of what they could only guess were some kind of beam cannon, though not as large as the ones on the _Archangel_. Numerous bays of smaller weapons as well as banks of torpedoes lined the side of the ship nearby where they were passing.

And not one of the weapons twitched, not even a noticeable movement from the smaller weapons. Mu reminded himself that with having to pass this close to the ship, he had already crossed nearby over fifty 'enemy' units, and in most cases he doubted the ability of the Launcher Strike he was piloting to take even one out before it plastered his machine with several well-placed shots.

Murrue found that as she drove the shuttle along that the unit which drew her interest most was the large Dendrobium Mobile Armors. The C3 Records for the Dendrobium classified it as a 'fast interdiction fleet interceptor and mobile fire support platform', which made sense by the way they moved. There was practically no grace to their motion, if anything it appeared to fly like a brick, but a brick with some serious attitude. Not that this made much difference as far as she could tell, the whole Mobile Armor massed almost 25 times more than the Moebius Zero and likely massed as much as 50 times more than the standard Moebius, and a goodly portion of that had to be armor, something lacking on the Moebius units. The huge beam cannon on the unit was not a decorative piece, nor were the modular weapon containers. Silently she wondered if this was the direction that space warfare would go, having already been traversed by the denizens of this ship and their parent Empire.

"Makes you wonder," Chandra says as he looks out the window toward the ship. They were approaching the designated landing spot, and Murrue was considering how she would do her maneuvering to land the shuttle, given the landing bay in question was more than ten times larger than the shuttle in question. "What kind of war would necessitate building thousands of ships this massive? And where would you get this kind of resources to do it?"

"The Earth Alliance could never build or staff a ship like this," Murrue declares. "It would take decades and cause a resource shortage on Earth, not to mention ZAFT would have them for lunch if they tried bringing an asteroid in to build it." She was deliberately NOT dwelling on the thoughts of what kind of war would require a ship like this, much less thousands of them.

As they passed the forward structure of the ship, nearing the landing bay designated for them, they got a good look at the artwork on the side of the ship, being a picture of a large hammer with a lightning bolt trailing out of the pommel (2) of the hammer. Mu could tell everyone was looking at it; "It represents the Norse God Thor throwing his hammer, it was said that when he threw it a lightning bolt trailed from the rear of the handle and gave a resounding thunderclap when it struck."

"And with guns like this thing has, I don't doubt it would leave people thunderstruck," Chandra replies. It went unstated: _those it did not kill outright, of course_.

"Coming up on the landing zone," Murrue says. She switches the radio on to begin. "_Mjolnr_, Shuttle One, requesting landing instructions," Murrue requests.

"Shuttle One, Flight Control, you are authorized to dock at bay 2-Sierra-01, personnel are on standby at this time. Be advised that said bay has an intermediate airlock system to maintain pressure on the inside, repressurization of the lock should take three minutes. After you are inside, follow landing and parking instructions as per flight marshals (3) on the ground, over," the Flight Controller replies.

"Shuttle One rogers your last, thank you," Murrue replies.

"Don't thank me yet, Shuttle One," the Flight Controller replies sardonically. "You may come to want to get away from the insanity more than you want verification of our dead Jump Core."

"What?" Murrue asks the radio blankly. "What does that mean?"

"I'll let the Star Admiral explain thoroughly, Captain. Flight Control is over and out."

"Well, this may get interesting fast," Mu declares. "I'll go in first, then shuttle, then Buster."

"Looks like we're all going in at once," Dearka says as the doors finishing opening into the airlock. It was easily large enough that five Mobile Suits could enter or exit in line abreast, and by the scuffing on the paint in the airlock it appeared that some had—as well as a crash-landing of some kind. When the three craft entered, a Flight Marshal tripped the door close to begin sealing the exterior doors, which by guess had to be over a meter thick and appeared to be of the same material as the rest of the ship: good and heavy.

The doors sealed, and the Mobile Suits immediately began registering the pressure change inside the lock. It was rather alarming how fast the pressure was going up, from no pressure to one atmosphere took less than three minutes by Murrue's count, then the doors began opening on the inside.

The first thing they collectively noticed was the red-and-white striped box with the words 'Gravity Transition Zone' in the middle of the hangar. Three Marshals were standing by and began guiding the three units into the transition zone where three of the apparently twenty landing zones were lit up and flashing. The marshaling signals were the same for them as it was for the Earth Alliance, Murrue realized as she followed the wand commands to her positioning, as did Dearka and Mu. Landing apparently would be a cinch, if this was as much effort as they had to put out.

It was the other occupants of the bay that had them wondering. There were twenty various MS hangared here, half of them beat to hell, missing limbs, some even missing whole chunks of their torsos and the almighty head of the unit. Thirty cubicles were present, an ominous figure given that so many suits were damaged. There were half a dozen techs per suit, a far larger distribution of labor per machine than either the Earth Alliance or ZAFT would dream about. They could only guess as to how they got by with such an amount of personnel assigned to technician duties and not combat duties, but Murrue guessed she would get a chance to decipher it later.

One of the Marshals reached back to his belt and pulled a portable radio from it. It had occurred to the pilots that the Marshals were outside the box and were standing unassisted on the deck, without a hint of weightlessness to them, and this without a massive rotating section on the ship. "Attention pilots, we are now going to begin raising gravity to 1G Terran Reference. Stand by," and on a short-range hologram projected just outside the landing zone a scale showing present gravity came up, and as the number began rising Murrue could see and feel the shuttlecraft sinking towards the deck. To her right she could hear the Buster hit the deck once, then twice, then to her left the Strike hit the deck once and stayed there, followed seconds later by the shuttlecraft coming to rest with a slight creak of the landing skids, and the gravity listing was still only 0.45G on the scale. Within another minute, however, they could tell they were at one gravity, just by how their legs felt when they stood up.

The Marshals were not through, though, as soon as the gravity hit 1G they began marshaling the two suits to Temporary Staging areas outside the landing zone. The shuttle was left in place due to the fact that it had no real maneuverability options under gravity, and one landing point less would not cripple the landing patterns, Murrue figured.

"Well, shall we?" Chandra says as he pulls the four-point harness release to get moving.

"Might as well," Murrue replies. Both officers were at the outside door to the shuttle in moments, and Chandra popped the hatch to let them out. They were down on the ground and completely under the influence of gravity in a matter of moments, which really had Murrue wondering why someone with such an advanced ship would be necessitated to fighting...and apparently still fighting with Mobile Suits. There were over a dozen of them just in plain sight as she exited the shuttle.

Inside the craft it was quiet, but outside the craft they were immediately assailed by the sounds of working technicians, and a lot of them. Everything from impact drills to arc welders to metal saws to straining cranes. And, of course, the shouts of frustrated technicians: "Marin! Tell those pricks on three to slow down! If they wreck that reactor, it's their ass!" Someone nearby a data terminal shouts.

"All right, all right!" A lady in tech uniform to the left of the bay shouts in response. "Crane three, slow it down! We ain't got a huge amount of spares, and the Foreman is getting antsy!"

"Look, man, I'd seal this reactor breach with money if it would help, but it ain't going to do the job! I need two-inch reactor plating down here in 2-Sierra-01, and I need it now! I'm already ten man-hours behind schedule and you ain't helping matters!" A tech was heard shouting into a growler phone attached to the side of a mobile tool cart. That he was less than ten meters away was something Murrue wasn't expecting to see or hear; she thought landing bay meant landing, not maintenance.

"Eh, Rico! Tell those dickheads in stores to get the parts down here! I can have this freaking machine op ready in five minutes if they'd get off their lazy asses and bring the stuff!" One of the techs in bay 22 shouts at the guy on the phone.

"You think I don't know that, amigo?" The guy on the phone asks, then ducks back to it. "Yeah, you'd better bring the parts lot for cube 22 in 2-Sierra-01 as well, get these loco pukes to stop busting my chops." Short pause; "Yeah, yeah, been there, heard that. Say, beers and pizzas after shift's up?" Another short pause; "Sweet. I'll drop by after they let me loose."

"Captain Ramius?" The guy that brought her attention back close to where she was (instead of the army of techs around the bay) was the Marshal for her shuttle. "Star Admiral's over there talking with the foreman and some techs, he asked me to send you over there ASAP. Your craft have a GFLM Manual?"

"Eh, what?" Murrue asks.

"Ground Fueling and Line Maintenance Manual," he clarifies.

"Uh, yeah, check the tool storage compartment inside," Murrue replies. She wasn't entirely sure such a book existed, but that is where it would be if there was one.

"Thanks, Cap'n. It'll be fueled and ready in fifteen," he says.

Murrue, Chandra, Mu and Dearka had to wait for the passage of a heavy trailer tug that had several trailers loaded with parts of various sizes on them. There was some cheering from some of the techs, apparently because they had been awaiting parts for some time, but otherwise things continued in what Murrue judged was their normal fashion. Things of this nature were hard to tell, sometimes, and in this case they were in the hard to tell category.

"It's amazing how many different languages these guys operate in. I've heard six so far," Mu says. "English and Japanese, for sure, something that sounds like Russian, Spanish over there," and he waves at a green-gray MS with a large oval shield, "German, and one other I can't recognize at all."

"I've only heard English and Japanese so far," Chandra replies.

"They're bouncing between languages over there," Dearka notes. "I can't recognize more than a quarter of what they're saying."

The small knot of _Archangel_ personnel had approached the small knot of personnel that supposedly included the Star Admiral. Of the five, two of the five persons they were looking at were female, which discounted them as being the Star Admiral (above and beyond the dirty technician jumpsuits, that is). The shortest of the guys present (only slightly taller and larger than Dearka at that) had six bars on his collar insignia, but also a technician's pants and shirt that were only slightly less dirty than the ladies. The second of the guys around the knot was massive – easily three meters tall and most of it muscle at that, though he was not wearing any brass and a dirty shirt. The fifth in the circle had to be the Star Admiral, since was the only uniform that wasn't significantly dirty, and he had the highest measure of brass among them with seven bars on his collar.

"...It moving, Foreman. If on some ungodly-powerful miracle we do get enough of our jump engine working to head home, I want our best equipment ready to hit the bastards head-on. Worry about the low-end Mass-pro units last, regardless of how easy they are to fix. If it's classified as a Gundam and it's broke, I want to know why."

"Aff, Star Admiral," the big guy replies to the one that Murrue suspected was the Star Admiral. "All right, you two, off the GM and onto that Zephyranthes, now."

"Bleh," one of the lady techs groans, but does as ordered as the two ladies and the foreman move toward the forward-side of the hangar.

"And you four must be the crew from the _Archangel_, I take it," the Star Admiral replies. "Wayne Centara," He offers his hand for a shake to them in descending rank, Murrue, Mu, Chandra, then Dearka.

"Pleasure," Mu says after Murrue shakes silently.

"Sir," Chandra says. Dearka was silent but definitely shook.

"You...really weren't joking, were you?" Dearka asks in the short silence thereafter, referring to the myriad of damaged MS and Gundams around the hangar. To Murrue he sounded almost apologetic about the matter, likely the initial challenge to the Star Admiral.

"Not even at length, pilot," Wayne replies. "This...this is the cost of seven warships and a thousand mobile units against six-thousand-plus unknown unmanned mobile dolls. We won, in the end, if you count losing half your forces in the process as a victory and if you count being marooned far, far away from home, that is."

"Oh man, you lost more units in one battle than we lost in the first two months of fighting here," Dearka replies, quite shocked of tone.

"Can't be helped, though," the lower-ranking of the two officers says. "You do it right the first time, or you don't live to talk about it later."

"This is Captain Jamestown, the command Jump Engineer for this ship." Nods were exchanged all around. "So, this beckons the question: where to start? General tour, sitdown chat, or the jump core."

"I'd still like to see what happened to the jump core for real," Dearka says. "Though, given circumstances and actually seeing all the holes in the surface of the ship, it's fairly obvious you were telling the truth."

_Thanks for the vote of confidence, kid_, Wayne thinks but did not say. "All right, we can do that," Wayne replies.

"Before we take a look at that, may we have a decent explanation as to who you really are, where this ship came from, and what you're doing here?" Captain Ramius asks plaintively.

"Certainly," Wayne replies. "Easiest way is to talk you straight through it, but definitely not here in the middle of a landing and repair bay. If you will follow me," Wayne says as he begins leading the four from the _Archangel_ toward the door out. Dearka gave his Gundam one last look, wondering if it would be sabotaged, but at a guess he figured they already too tied up fixing theirs to break his.

"Attention all personnel, in ten minutes the primary reactor will be taken down for upgrade to full standard," the Engineering Captain declares over the intercom. "All non-essential functions are to be disabled and shut down to reduce load on the secondary reactor. The solar sail will be deployed in furled configuration and power rerouted into the ship to augment. That is all."

The transit to the bridge was startlingly short, less than twenty meters from the landing bay personnel door to the blast doors into the bridge. At the doors, though, the _Archangel_ personnel got their first real fright of the day, as the doors were guarded by four Armored Marines, each wearing a suit of armor that had to weigh in the tons and each carrying weapons from something as small as a pistol all the way up to what had to be a miniature tank cannon. Two had shields, two had extra weapons, and all four gave the four from the _Archangel_ a thorough visual inspection, though Murrue noted that none of them lingered on her more than the others. That bespoke a professional attitude like few others, where most EA guards tended to look her up and down _real_ hard.

Inside the bridge was two more Marines, both with shields and conspicuous heavy rifles, undoubtedly the kind of 'small' weapon adept to their form of combat. The amount of personnel occupying the bridge's stations was insane in and of itself, as there were more people in the bridge of this one ship than normally crewed a whole _Drake_-class warship of the Earth Alliance. That fact alone put the whole of what they stumbled upon into a nice, large perspective for them.

And, of course, as soon as they walked in they walked face-first into a wall of sound. If nothing else, there was no paralyzing quiet among the Magi. "Thunderbolt Trinary, Flight Control, we are launching Warhawk Trinary at this time to relieve your force. At time of Warhawk's arrival, you will return to base by way of Nav Route Tango for docking at the usual locations, over," one of the flight controllers orders.

"Yeah, yeah," someone replies on the radio. Again, to Murrue the speaker sounded younger than Kira.

Mu took stock of the stations that he could read the designations from where he stood, and the array was immense. Helm (two), Sensors / flight control (30 of them), weapons (eight), Suborbital (one), Comms (three), HPG (one), Maintenance Control (two), Engineering (Two), Jump Coordinators (four), Navigation (two), Def Counter (two), Elect Warfare (two), and the obligatory command personnel seats in the central command platform in the middle of the room, of which there were six seats as well as jumpseats on the outside of the command circle for a lot more than just six.

"Conn, Sensors, no movement from Warship _Archangel_ or unidentified partner ship," One of the Sensors / Flight Controller Technicians declares.

"Sensors, Conn, aye," one of the personnel in the command platform notes.

The whole room showed age to the members of the _Archangel_ crew. The metal was browned, not a polished or sheen material, but not rusted, simply old and discolored because of it. The architecture of the whole facility bespoke a different philosophy of shipbuilding, as all the personnel stations were built into the walls and not stand-alone terminals. Though their screens were multi-function, there was a far greater amount of screen and control per crewmember than even the _Archangel_ had, belying that these were elite personnel capable of handling immense taskloads and doing so with flair.

"Conn, Jump, solar sail is deployed in furled configuration, no interference from debris screen. Power input from Sail is showing at six-eight-thousand kilowatts," the female Jump crewmember declares. The other three Coordinators were men, two of them early fifties or older.

"Conn, Engineering, secondary reactor is now holding the load at 57% capacity. Draw on the primary is down to 2%. Power from the solar sail is going straight into batteries at this time, no major flux at this time."

"Conn acknowledges," again, from the same officer that looked about as old as Mu.

As the Star Admiral moved toward the central command area, the four focused in four different directions, observing without the major appearance of observing. Murrue found herself examining the navigation boards, of which every major artifice in space from Artemis to the PLANTs had already been mapped out, as well as the Earth's surface, and transit lines had been laid in. She could only guess each line represented a different contingency plan. Mu had taken a harder look at the sensors and flight controller personnel, and could only guess that they had veritable control of every unit outside the ship itself. Chandra had a look at the weapons controllers, and each of the eight had a lot of screens with a lot of entries per screen, which really had him worried. Dearka's focus was on the holographic projection coming from a large circular plate on the floor and ceiling forward of the command seats, and how the projection showed a full three-dimension image of everything around the ship, and could be easily manipulated to show different areas, angles, or scaling.

The command center lacked the refinement, grace of the _Archangel_ or a ZAFT ship, but none of the four doubted its lethal purpose and brutal efficiency.

_FZZZZT-WHOOoooo-pop_, the sound of a dying electronic device to their right drew glances over to one of the Maintenance Controller stations. "Damnit, my console just took a king-sized dump. Can you call a tech up here, Kate?"

"Roger that," the other Maintenance Controller replies. "Anyone on the electronics band that is available, come in," she puts out on the radio.

"Go for electronics," someone replies.

"Maint Control Station One just took a dump, can you spare a few to come up here and take a look?"

"Roger that," the tech in question replies in a bored fashion.

"You guys got it pretty rough," Dearka says.

"If it hasn't broke yet, it is waiting for the worst possible opportunity to break," Wayne declares. "Please, have a seat," Wayne says, indicating the command chairs.

"Nothing to report, Admiral," the only other ship's officer on the platform reports.

"Thanks Commander, keep it stable for now," Wayne replies.

"Aff, sir," he replies. "Helm, Conn, confirm station," he orders immediately thereafter.

"Helm, Conn, confirming station at negative zero point one meters per second. We definitely ain't headed to Granny's place at this rate, Commander," the helmsman replies immediately.

"Thank you, Helm," the Commander replies drolly.

As Mu sat down, he thought he could sense something unusual about the place, and his eyes were drawn to a figure nearby the forward windows. One person, staring out into space, and at a guess the lady in question was maybe twenty-five at best, likely younger. Otherwise she was nondescript in every sense of the word, from what he could see of her at thirty meters, with the exception of the uniform that looked black...maybe dark blue at range? Some kind of distinction that had to be, since even the Star Admiral wore gray the same as the rest of the officers around the room.

"So," which beginning immediately snapped Mu's attention back to the Star Admiral, who had been seated after they did, "Where to begin?" he prompts.

"First off, who are you...exactly," Murrue prompts, more than ready to get down to the details and showing it.

The Star Admiral's answer was not overlong in coming: "We are a patrol fleet of an interdimensional Star Empire known commonly as the Magi. You do understand this principle, correct?"

"No, not really," Mu replies. Grumbles from Dearka and Chandra confirmed it, though Murrue was silent about it, she figured she had the concept mostly nailed but definitely not completely. Either way, she wanted to hear his explanation through.

"Okay, here's the easiest way to think of it: consider everything in the universe, known, unknown, comprising all matter in the three physical dimensions X, Y, and Z, and time, and consider it as just one 'history', one origin, continuance, and series of events, persons and material. Follow?"

"Your saying think of everything as one object, basically," Dearka replies.

"Yes, exactly," the Star Admiral replies. "Now, given that set of 'history' as where you stand, you can look at all of Existence, meaning your present 'history' and any other history you can imagine, and find it with the right tool and the right logic. The tool is the Modulated Jump Drive, which naturally punches a hole through the four planes to take the ship from one place to the next, and can be 'aimed' at another 'history' if you derive where you are going."

This immediately had Dearka's curiosity, for more than a few reasons: "And how do you derive that?"

"Every 'history', similar to wildly different, can be found and entered by way of answering a series of questions, in series, that derives the destination location. Computer, show Theoretical Existence Diagram, empty, on floor map zone," and after a few moments at their feet in the center of the platform a tan circle appeared that was about three meters wide. "Let us oversimplify for a few moments here, and consider that this circle consists of all Existence, every different 'history' both visited and not. Now, finding the position where you stand is a matter of deriving the events that led to where you want to be. The first and automatic assumption is that where you want to go has matter," and on this the circle was cut in half. "Second, you assume that this matter has reacted in such a fashion that you have galaxies," and one half of the circle was cut in half again, "Then planets, then life on planets, and here is where things get dicey," Wayne says as they were looking at a sixteenth of the original circle highlighted. "If you were to say 'sentient life' instead of 'human life' you get two totally different subsets, and one hell of a rude shock when you land. Trust me on that one," Wayne says, having read the old histories that dated back before the Divine Wars on this subject. "Follow so far?"

"You reduce the variable until you find out where you want to go," Mu says. "Only question is, where do we fall on this diagram?"

"Somewhere inside this sixteenth of the diameter of Existence. The whole equation is empirical, and has to be by laws of interdimensional travel, because the amount of parallels contained in even this small wedge is infinite. No matter how far you drill down in events, objects and temporal state, there are always infinite dimensional parallels you can look to given those constraints. The difference can be literally so minute you may never be able to find it, say a couple of water molecules in the ocean traded places with each other, that is how exacting it can be."

"So, you're saying that somewhere else in Existence there is another me that is just exactly like me," Dearka says with a small hint of humor.

"By the rule book, theoretically there are an infinite amount of entities just like you, pilot," the Star Admiral declares. "Just a matter of finding them, in the end, though I don't advise you go looking any time soon. The farther you drill down, the more dangerous the jump and the more power it requires. The engine in this thing," and he stomps the deck to reinforce he was indicating his ship, "was capable of drilling down to the arrangement of Christmas decorations in people's yards, but no farther than that without risking blowing the ship up."

"I noticed the stress on the word 'was' in that, Star Admiral," Murrue replies.

Wayne nods twice, silently. "About five hours before we landed here, which was a couple weeks ago this time, this fleet was involved in a head-on battle with more than six thousand unmanned mobile suits. We won, we killed off every last one of them, but in the end we took far too many losses to chance hanging around for a second go at it. We were aiming for an uninhabited 'history' of Terra, well away from the usual places a wounded ship and fleet would go, but in transit our jump core malfunctioned. Same physical location, the Terran L3 Transient Point or zero-gravity zone we are in right now, but a totally different 'history' than we intended. And without our jump core, we literally can not go home."

"And how do you fix it?" Chandra asks, having pulled his mind away from the theories and laws (and possibilities) of interdimensional travel.

"Conn, Engineering, deactivating primary reactor now," one of the Engineering Controllers reports.

"Engineering, Conn, Aye," both Wayne and the Commander reply at the same time in the same fashion. "Excuse me," Wayne requests after a few moments.

The commander snorts humorously after a few moments. "Automatic reaction, I daresay," the Commander replies.

The lights flicker, including the display on the floor, but everything appears to remain functional in the end.

"Fixing the jump core is going to take a long time," Jamestown replies after the lights stabilize. "Computer, silhouette of the ship, diagram the Jump Core," he orders, and the computer immediately displays the ship in a three-dimension hologram above the surface of the deck, with what looked like a long pipe in green right in the center of it. "The Jump Core in this class of ships is 30 percent of the ship's mass, which comes out to about 1.7 million tons mass. The whole core, due to its construction and purpose, is basically a large capacitor pipe floating in a liquid helium bath in the center of the ship, with some more complex components at the end away from the bridge," and as he spoke the parts in question were highlighted. "When it failed, the whole thing superheated. We estimate that about six hundred thousand tons of the core was severely damaged or destroyed in that incident, and the catch is we can't get more detailed analysis because from the midpoint back is still too hot to enter and inspect, even for remote equipment. It will be months before we can get accurate numbers, and months more than that before we can begin servicing it. And, to make things even more difficult, we need the materials to fix it before we can do so. And nobody knows where we are, so we can't bring our own supplies in. Catch-22."

"Which brings me to the pressing question, you wouldn't happen to know anyone we could purchase or barter a few hundred thousand tons of Germanium off, would you?" Wayne asks.

"Erm," Chandra begins, but comes to a halt.

"Uh, ZAFT definitely wouldn't have that much," Dearka notes.

"The National Defense Industry Association would have some, but definitely not six hundred thousand tons," Murrue notes. "Though, I don't advocate buying anything off them."

"Why?"

"Were we to purchase anything off them, it would get every senior officer here shot," the lady that Mu had seen before at the front windows was now standing on the other side of the railing, behind and to the left of the Star Admiral. How he had missed her movements was beyond him, and a bit worrysome that she could move so quietly and without setting his senses off. "The National Defense Industry Association of the Atlantic Federation is a legal, somewhat legitimate front for a multi-national mass-murdering terrorist group. By the codes that govern the Magi, we cannot associate with them even on the quiet."

"That bad?" Wayne asks.

"Nuclear attack on a colony bad enough?" Calamira asks deadpan.

If the bridge of a Warship could get any quieter, colder than the bridge of the _Mjolnr_ did, how was lost on Murrue. Dead silence from everyone within.

"I did just hear that right, right? Some pricks used a nuclear weapon inside a colony?" one of the Weapons Officers asks.

"Aff, you did," Commander Ward replies. "Return to Ops, all of you. We will hash the issue out later."

"Over two hundred thousand casualties, less than a thousand were military," Calamira adds after things got back to what passed for normal.

"That answers that question," Wayne replies, rather deflated of demeanor. "Asteroid mining may be the only solution, then."

"What—wait a second!" Murrue half-shouts. "If you've only been here two weeks, and you haven't had any contact with anyone except the dead in the colony here, how can you know that?" After a few moments of silence, it dawned on Captain Ramius that they somehow knew her name, and she could not recall having told anyone at all.

It was fairly obvious to the four that the Star Admiral did not want her to answer that question. To Mu, it seemed logical that she would hold the answer, something about her did not feel right at all...

And yet, she answered anyway: "It is my duty to know these things, Captain," she replies calmly, eerily calm for someone who was just challenged on such a subject. "I am a Strategic Psionic. My duty to this fleet is to read minds—literally—to derive any advantage possible from this, and to prevent ambushes, traps, and other such nasty problems by sensing the oncoming enemies before they act. I do other things as well, and in a pinch I can handle most infantry weapons, but for the most part being awake—or sleeping light—is enough to sense impending attacks. And I can also coordinate with allied personnel using the same set of skills that I use to find enemies and discern their intentions."

Completely stunned silence from everyone in the room. It was not a rule, per se, but it was considered proper conduct for a Strategic Officer (and there was more than one type) to _not_ reveal their presence or duties to anyone except Magi command officers (Galaxy Commander and up). In this case, she had just traded her stealth for no apparent gain.

She chuckles harshly. "So, say what you will. I will readily trade battered feelings for going home in one piece—and living through the inevitable review."

Murrue's spate of silence was one of dread tinged with a little bit of anger. The capability to read minds whatsoever was an insanely powerful tool in any way, and it went without saying that she had dredged their brains for intel once already, at the minimum. Her reaction shifted to shock, almost to panic when her mind inevitably began wondering what memories she had examined—yet she could not ask, and trying to strangle the little wench would mean passing by the Star Admiral, who did not look like a slouch any way you cut it.

Mu's reaction was straight-line shock. He thought the ability to 'sense' others was very limited at best, and despite the creepy feeling he had sensed from some of the larger units outside when passing them, figured it was still his domain only, maybe Rau Le Creuset's domain as well. If what she said held an ounce of truth, she was not just capable of sensing other people, it was her job to sense them and deal with them long before they knew what hit them. Not to mention she could read the whole of their thoughts, derive intention and methods, and communicate these facts to anyone she wanted, in essence playing a game of chess against a foe blindfolded and whose logic she could read or distort at whim.

Chandra's reaction was that of an intellectual posed a new slant on an old fact: mental disciplines like psychic abilities and telepathy were actually real, and they knew how to use them! More to the point, they knew how to use them in a brutally direct and most useful fashion, using a Psionic to fill in the gaps of sensor coverage that did not always see around walls or through debris fields, but could easily read the mind of a pilot or the minds of a warship's bridge crew without trouble. Only after running down that course did he realize that there was no keeping secrets from someone like her, which immediately took what admiration he had for her physical beauty and turn that into a weapon he used on himself, not realizing that the person he was referring to was already more or less inured to most such thoughts from others.

It was Dearka that broke the ice after her comment: "If you have to say that, you must really have it bad, like worse than Coordinators."

"Neg, not really," she replies calmly. "Inside the bounds of the Empire, there is no distinction of race, gender, special talents, ethnicity, psionics, nothing of the like. It is outside those borders that the problems come, and Psionics are usually one of the first groups tied the stake for burning as heretics. And, while you mention it, what is a Coordinator?"

The directness of her question brought Mu and Murrue out of their mental lapse. "You mean, what you do...is just for your duties, right?" Murrue asks, hoping she wasn't giving anything away in so doing.

The amused snort from the lady was an intriguing response. "I am a blooded, veteran Strategic Officer, Captain Ramius. I sure as hell am not paparazzi and I am not a gossip. If it does not pertain to my duties, I never heard it." She was stretching the truth, and just about everyone could tell she was, but an official position it counted as, and one that Murrue could breathe easier knowing she had to deal with a professional in this matter, not a gossip.

"I can live with that," Murrue says. She knew all about the cost of doing one's job, and she could guess that some things a person like her heard should be things never heard.

"So, now that you're here, now what?" Mu asks. "Can't head home, and you're not going to stay hidden forever," he notes of the _Mjolnr_'s precarious position.

"What we do from here out depends on the local situation. We know there's a war going on, and not a pleasant one at that, but we don't really understand sides, reasons or methods. Would you be willing to elaborate?" Mu could naught but grimace at what someone who drive a five-million-plus-ton Warship would ever consider to be a 'pleasant' war.

The answer came from Dearka: "It is a war between genetically-engineered Coordinators living in space and unmodified Naturals from everywhere else. Mainly it is the Coordinators, ZAFT, against the Naturals in the Earth Alliance, though the Alliance has attacked and invaded neutral parties lately."

"And both sides want to annihilate the other," Chandra notes.

"Where would you side in such a case? Natural or Coordinator?" Murrue asks.

No hesitation from the Star Admiral: "In a race war, nobody is right because everybody is wrong. And fighting over genetic engineering is a race war at the simplest level. We would side with neither side in the end, if we had the power we would end the war on neutral terms and tell both sides to take a hike."

"Whoa, you mean, you don't have a position on genetic engineering?" Dearka asks, half-misinterpreting the Star Admiral's intent.

"Allow me to demonstrate," Wayne says. "Commander Glenaste Ward the second," and he points to the Commander over his left shoulder. "freeborn of two Eugenic parents. Calamira Weste," and he indicates the lady to his right, on the other side of the rails, "freeborn of two freeborn parents. Soritz Jamestown, freeborn of mixed parentage—one natural, one coordinator to use your term. Chief Warrant Officer Esmeralda Blake, over on the Suborbital station," and when mentioned she waved over her head to the group but did not look away from her console, "complete Eugenic—born in the artificial gestation tank of the Blake bloodheritage. You ask if we have no position? Our position is that life and honor beat anything else out three-to-one or better. And we don't care how life started or how it was modified at the beginning. And upon that we can never condone a group that seeks to annihilate genetic engineerring and those bred under its techniques, but we can never condone those who would annihilate unmodified persons because they are 'inferior'."

"And you?" Mu asks.

"Eugenic, Centara bloodheritage," Wayne declares. "Some of us are, in local terms, Naturals. Some of us are in between, part natural, part eugenic. Some of us are full Eugenic, born in the canister and raised by the Eugenic Program from birth. Hell, I even have a guy in here that swears up and down he was raised by mermaids. In the end, I don't know and I don't care. Officially I'm not allowed to care. Therefore, my official position is there is no difference between the sides. Just different flags and creeds of hatred. Answer enough?"

"Attention all hands, the Ship's Jester would like to protest the shutdown of the sim rooms as cruel and unusual punishment for flushing firecrackers down the toilets. That is all."

"That...was the most insanely random thing I've ever heard on a ship's intercom," Dearka notes with quite a bit of shock.

"Uh, what the fuck?" Star Admiral Centara asks. "Since when has this ship had a Jester?" Murrue and Mu were trying desperately to maintain decorum in this case, but almost failing at it. Both could not count the times they wanted to say something completely random on a building or ship intercom, and apparently the Magi had a helluva sense of humor about these things...

It was obvious that Calamira was stifling her outright laughing at the comment, and succeeding mostly. "Comms, Conn, trace that ya-hoo that's porking with the intercom system, please," Commander Ward orders.

"Back-checking now, sir," the Comms tech replies, himself obviously trying to stifle a snigger all his own. "Sir, the record's toast. There's an entry there, but it is unreadable. Computer doesn't even show it as encrypted, it's just random noise."

"Great," Commander Ward replies. "We'll just have to find him the hard way, then," he says as he reaches for a growler phone.

"Hold off, Commander," Wayne notes before he dials anything in. "We shall let this Ship's Jester stew for a while, see how far he pushes it. So far he hasn't even broken a reg (4) yet, so no sense in chasing him down. We have better uses for manpower and resources than hunting for such a needle in a haystack."

"Conn, Comms, I show an 83 percent 'yes' vote on the Jester's comment from the crew, 3200 votes in and rising."

"Well, sir?" Commander Ward asks of the Star Admiral. Even thus far, none of the _Archangel_ crew had a look at his face yet, he was still looking forward and standing at the ready.

"You're still Conn, Commander, not I," Wayne replies calmly, which drove the matter back to Commander Ward's hands. "Regardless, any outstanding questions, Captain Ramius?"

"If you had a chance to end the war, would you?" she asks after a moment.

Again, he spoke with no hesitation: "Instantly, Captain Ramius. War is a terrible thing, to be used sparingly and restrained when not needed. But when times comes to act, one must act, or the damage only gets worse. I gather from your direction of questions, you want to end the war as well?"

"Yes. As you said, neither side can be right if both sides are wrong," she replies after a moment.

"Do you have the manpower and resources to do it?" Wayne asks next.

"You know how much we have, Star Admiral," she replies calmly, apparently now over the thought of having her intel compromised that badly.

"Then I offer my assistance to your fleet, Captain," Wayne says.

There was an amount of shock from the comment itself, but what turned out to be more startling to the four from the _Archangel_ was the almost-complete unreaction from Captain Jamestown, Commander Ward, and Calamira. "You...what?"

"Think about it, Captain. We're stuck here, as in _not_ leaving for the next three, four Christmases minimum. There's a war going on, and as soon as one of the parties finds out about us the crap has well and truly hit the fan. While this war is going on, there is no way we would be able to acquire the manpower or resources to fix the ship, meaning our exit is delayed even longer. Therefore, the most logical and most honorable solution is to end the war on neutral terms and negotiate with both sides to calm down, stop killing each other and look past their own damned borders and prejudices. Follow?"

"Aye, Admiral," Murrue replies instinctively, since in so doing he almost sounded like Admiral Halburton, despite the fact that she knew said Admiral was dead.

"Now, do you want the assistance or do we try to accomplish the same thing in two different ways?" Wayne requests.

Again, the decision was not as simple as first appeared, but in the end it was the only logical answer possible. "Your offer is accepted."

-x-x-x-

(5 July CE71, 1330 hours)

"Sensors detected a Warship outside the area, gross mass estimate 300,000 tons, moving to approach Mendel by way of the approach alley. This may be it for our stealth," the Mobile Armor Pilot with the Callsign Warhawk Zero notes.

"It is also possible that...no, I don't think Kira and Athrun would have been able to commandeer a Warship, even under the best of circumstances," Dearka declares. He was riding along with Warhawk Team, a unit of Eight Dendrobium and three Neue Ziel (U) Mobile Armors.

"Anything is possible, so we check before we blow them apart, okay?" Commander Mu La Flaga says. So far there was no evidence that the Magi forces were trigger-happy, quite the opposite: their restraint in the face of a threat was well past commendable, their discipline was astounding. Except, when given the opportunity they cracked massive jokes in massive quantity.

"Aff," Warhawk Zero replies. "Warhawk Element, confirm weapons safe," he notes after a few moments of mulling it over.

"One, master arm disabled." Pause; "Two, safed," pause; "Three, locked out," pause; "Four, clear," pause; "Five, clear," "Six, dry," "Seven, empty," "Eight, safe," "Nine, no joy," "Ten, sock on," the whole unit reports.

"Range to contact is 25 hexes, estimate time to contact three minutes. All units cut engines and coast."

"Uh, what's a hex?" Dearka asks.

"Grid reference to target, in a hexagon grid. It's how the Admirals judge positioning and movements of forces. Each hex is about 20 thousand kilos across." Warhawk Seven replies.

"Should be able to get a visual on mag optics at this time," Warhawk Six notes. "Checking now, on C3," meaning that Dearka and Commander La Flaga could see as well, since their machines' sensors were not up to the challenge.

"Whoa, that's a machine built for maneuverability," Warhawk Zero notes. "Looks like it is almost all engine, some capital weps, some point defense, and only one launch catapult, looks like," he concludes.

"Probably thin on armor as well," Warhawk Four thinks aloud.

"Of course," Dearka replies. "Anyone knows beam weapons go through armor like a hot knife through butter."

"Only in your dreams, kid," Warhawk Zero replies. He figured himself allowed, given that the pilot of Warhawk Zero was pushing forty but still at the top of his game.

"Yeah? How you figure?" Dearka asks.

"You shoot the side of the _Mjolnr_ with your beam cannon, all you're going to do is piss off the maintenance controllers. You can hammer on the same area of the ship all week and not punch through the armor," Warhawk Zero replies.

"My battery wouldn't last that long," Dearka grumbles.

"Zero from Seven, I just got pinged. They know we're comin' in," Seven notes.

"Commander, your turn," Zero notes.

"Attention unidentified Warship, this is Commander Mu La Flaga. Please identify yourself, intentions and destination, over," he requests amicably.

"Commander, it's Kira," a rather young man's voice declares. "What are you doing with...what are those things?"

"Leftovers from someone else's war, kid," Mu replies. The two sides approached close enough to establish visual link, which confirmed that it was Kira in the Freedom and not being held under duress. "They saw your ship coming in and decided checking it out would be 'prudent' to use their phrase. I tagged along, and good thing I did." Five days of exposure had made one thing clear to Mu: when the Magi sent Mobile Armors to take down a Warship, that Warship didn't live long enough to learn from its mistakes.

"Are those things Mobile Armors?" A second voice asks, an older guy. "Is the Earth Alliance moving ahead with their Armor programs?"

"Nope, not Earth Alliance, someone completely different, erm..." Mu could not recognize the guy, but the girl in the seat below his he did recognize: Lacus Clyne.

"Andrew Waltfeld, formerly of ZAFT," the Ship's commander replies. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced," he prompts.

-x-

"Mu La Flaga, formerly of the Earth Alliance," the younger guy on the left of the comm screen says.

"Ah, the Hawk of Endymion, no wonder the _Archangel_ survived as long as she did," Waltfeld replies. "And you, sir?"

"Star Colonel Estell Greeg of the marooned Warship _Mjolnr_,"

"Mjolnr...Thor's hammer?" Waltfeld asks to clarify.

"The same," the Star Colonel replies.

"Uh, can someone tell me how you ended up with Mu?" Kira asks.

"Short version, the _Archangel_ came to the Mendel colony looking for parking space and found us, trying to avoid being found. After some talks, we found out the only hope we have to get un-marooned and go home is to end the war in an honorable fashion," the Star Colonel declares.

"What's wrong with your ship? Anything we can do to help?" Lacus asks.

"Only if you have a couple hundred thousand tons of Germanium you can spare us, milady," the Star Colonel replies with a tone that just spoke of seriousness in volumes.

"Whoa," Waltfeld moans. He was not hugely skilled in industrial engineering, but he knew that Earth itself likely did not have that much Germanium to spare, much less after it was being used for electronics in its own right.

"And that is the measure of how far and fast we can go in the direction of home. Sol has a lot of asteroids with millions of tons of Germanium, but we can't begin extracting and utilizing until the shooting is over. You'll get a full briefing from the CO of the _Archangel_ and tour of the _Mjolnr_ after you've parked and resupplied."

"I take it you've taken over Mendel, then?" Waltfeld asks.

"Not officially," the Star Colonel replies. "We don't have the forces to hold a colony and stop a shooting war right now. One or the other; since holding one colony while the rest of the Earth Sphere annihilates itself doesn't help anyone, stopping the war comes first."

"That's a rather...odd...way to put it," Lacus replies.

"That is the cold hard reality, milady. History has been less than kind to our group; we tend to see things from a sharp, direct viewpoint. Life and honor are foremost, and for that reason we cannot ignore the war," he declares.

"It's a bit much to swallow, but they are on the level," Mu declares. "Like he said, Murrue will brief everyone in once you get there. Who knows? With their help, we may be able to end the war without too many more casualties."

"That would be good," Lacus says, though still a bit leery of their foreboding presence she was willing to overlook their apparent focus on war if they were going to use it for the right reasons.

"All right, take us to your leader," Commander Waltfeld requests, knowing that it sounded like a cheesy sci-fi one-liner even as he said it.

"Can do," Star Colonel Greeg apparently missed the pun or immediately dismissed it. "Warhawk Team, form up on the target warship and escort to the doorway, Neue Ziel units have point," and each of the pilots responded with their call number in series, which spoke volumes for their discipline. Not even a word of complaint or a crass comment about the changing situation, they just adjusted and continued operating.

To the renegade ZAFT operators, it was a creepy feeling being escorted by massive mobile armors that they could only guess how powerful they were, or how fast, or heavily armored, but it was also reassuring. If anyone came looking for the _Eternal_ right now, they would be toast, they all figured.

Sixty minutes later, they were approaching the debris alley to Mendel, and for their travels received the inevitable challenge: "Doorman to Warhawk, please authenticate, over."

"Doorman, this is Warhawk Zero, authenticate Sierra-Whiskey-Tango, over," Warhawk Zero requests.

"Doorman rogers your last, welcome back Warhawk," Doorman Zero replies. "Looks like you brought company in, didn't your ma ever tell you not to bring strange things home?"

"It's no fun unless your friends are at the party, you old redneck," Star Colonel Greeg replies a bit sharply.

"Roger that, welcome to the party, _Eternal_. Valet parking is available at the front door of Mendel, over," Doorman replies.

"Acknowledged, Doorman. You don't have any major obstructions or defensive measures down the debris alley, correct?" Martin DaCosta asks, since it was his turn on the radio.

"Negative, _Eternal_, just unit patrols," Doorman replies. "Doorman is going quiet and invisible, have a nice day. Over and out." And just like that the contact was off their screens. Whatever Doorman was, it had stealth capabilities equal to or greater than Mirage Colloid, and that instinctively worried Waltfeld.

-x-x-x-

(12 July CE71)

"You know, Commander Waltfeld, you can get your arm replaced," Calamira notes to the latter and rather enigmatic former ZAFT commander.

The ship had settled into a routine of stability, if not peace and quiet. Right now, Commanders La Flaga and Waltfeld as well as Lacus Clyne were on the bridge of the _Mjolnr_, going over options pertaining to resupply necessities and possible strategies for driving a permanent wedge between the militaries of the Earth Alliance and ZAFT. There would be supplies coming in from both the PLANTs and the Earth Alliance to the Three Ships Alliance, but those supplies did not take the _Mjolnr_ into account and certainly were not direct shipments. The main transport capability would be the Junk Guild, Reverend Malchio had arranged for a special supply ship to see to their needs. No doubt they would get a rude shock when they found the three smaller ships _Archangel_, _Kusanagi_ and _Eternal_ brought along one huge hunk of combat metal in the _Mjolnr_.

"I was wondering...huh?" Lacus begins, then questions what Calamira had just said.

"What?" Calamira asks in response.

"What did you just say about his arm?" Lacus points to Commander Waltfeld.

"I said we could replace his arm," Calamira says. "I dunno, just a random thought that came to mind, sorry. Where were we?"

"Is this...whole ship...full of straight jokers?" Commander Waltfeld asks in response.

"Actually, yes, it is, but that was completely serious," Calamira replies half-indignantly. "The whole existence of this fleet is a joke, personnel that other commanders, Admirals and even the Assignment Board wanted to shitcan and keep out of their way because we didn't kiss enough ass on the way up. Hell, I did nothing more than shoot an Admiral that got physically insistent once, whole incident was cleared as a justified shoot, and here I am." She did not of course tell how much it hurt her mentally to hear the thoughts of some schlub she had put two rounds of .45ACP in his chest. "I protect myself because I don't want to sleep with a drunk fleet commander, I get assigned to the great beeter of Magi warships."

"Sad," Lacus replies.

"Even your society has its problems," Waltfeld replies.

"Find me a perfect society and I'll find a way to get everyone in Existence there," Calamira replies with an old Magi lament. "Still and all, my comment was entirely legitimate. You can have a lost limb replaced with a myomer prosthetic that functions almost completely like a normal arm or you can have your arm regenerated by nanotechnology."

"Wow," Andrew replies. Mu knew about the medical staff on the ship already, as there was quite a bit of them and he had run into a few already, but not due to any injuries he had received. Lacus was finding the Magi's technical acumen more and more shocking as the days continued, though hers was a shock borne of the fact that someone would apply such miraculous technology to warfare.

"Think about it, don't answer right now," Calamira prompts. "It's a large decision. You lost your arm doing something monumental, some people don't look at losing a limb as something you correct lightly."

"Ship's Jester reporting, will the cook in galley twelve quit serving the bean casserole? We have numerous restrooms with maintenance calls in that area. Thank you." Of course there was quite a bit of laughing up and down the bridge, but some were still silent about the matter.

Five seconds later: "Oi! Will this maggot Ship's Jester come down to Galley Twelve to make me stop serving the bean casserole? You're the only one complaining right now!" If anything, the response sounded like it was from a very large guy.

"The joking is a way to vent without causing undue external damage," Commander Ward notes, still staring forward at the helm stations. "When it comes to the duties, Magi are deadly serious."

"Oh," Commander Waltfeld replies.

"You were about to ask something, Lacus?" Calamira prompts. The Command Officers had no problems considering Lacus to be the masthead for the Three Ships, since commanders came from all vectors. After all, the First Emperor of the Magi had been a complete nobody catapulted to instant fame for his skills and willingness to put down a brutal tyrant and his regime without having had any prior involvement in the conflict.

"Oh, no, you just answered it," Lacus replies.

"Conn, Engineering, secondary reactor is finished with the upgrade process, scans certify it ready to go online," one of the Engineer Controllers notes.

"Bring it up, slow, and keep your eyes on the indicators, and that includes you as well, Ai," Commander Ward orders.

"Aff, Commander," the Ship's AI replies.

"Okay, where were we? I forget," Calamira asks to get the conversation back on track.

"Movement," Mu replies.

"Ah, yes, movement," Calamira replies. "I suggest we use the _Mjolnr_...as...Commander Ward, which of our Monitors is nearest the entry to the debris alley?" It had come to be the official name of the path that led from beyond the debris pretty much to the entrance to the docks at Mendel, though it was far from a straight shot and had more than a few blind turns before you even got a decent look at the entrance to the colony.

The sudden and rather aggressive shift of demeanor in Calamira was enough to startle Lacus, who had known Calamira to be a very serene person thus far. "Is something wrong?"

"Possibly," Calamira replies.

"_Montgomery_, followed by _Hyperion_," Commander Ward replies after checking the placements in the holotank.

"Please have the _Montgomery_ ping everything in proximity once, quick-burst, nano-wave only, full power and range gate," Calamira requests.

If Star Admiral Centara was not going to question Calamira, Commander Ward sure as hell was not going to think loud about it. Questioning someone of her position and duty was a sure-fire way to kill your career, and possibly your whole ship while you were at it. "_Montgomery_ command, Fleet Command. Request one nano-wave sensor ping, max range and gate, then secure silent. Trans results on C3 only, then secure from C3." The message was curt and was not on the C3 band, meaning it had a higher encryption rating than the C3 network would, reducing chances of being discovered.

It only took five seconds: "Conn, EWO, I show one sensor ping from _Montgomery_ as requested."

"Conn, sensors, valid contact at turn three in the debris alley! Warship-class, unknown parameters at this time!"

"Chief of the Boat, signal general quarters," Commander Ward orders simply.

General quarters klaxons of Magi construction were not always the typical buzzing, many captains had them reprogrammed for music. In the case of the _Mjolnr_, the song in question was _In The Shadows_ by the ancient metal group The Rasmus, which the first few seconds of the song actually did sound like a battle klaxon.

"General quarters, general quarters, all hands to your battle stations!" The Chief Of The Boat (5) orders across the intercom.

"Status of the boat?" Star Admiral Centara asks as he enters the bridge while buttoning the last two buttons on his shirt.

"All stations report ready, Star Admiral," Commander Ward replies. "Marines are moving to internal defensive locations as we speak. Weapon systems are online now, though all tracking systems are offline as per EMCON regs. C3 has rebroadcast alert warning then went silent."

"Conn, EWO, active sensor reads from tango warship in approach alley, apparently we got his attention and he's looking around for a source."

"Foolish him," Commander Ward replies. "As long as he broadcasts, we know exactly where he is. Hell, he gets close enough, we can kill him off without using our own active targeting systems," if ever Mu saw a savage grin on anyone, Commander Ward had one. "Stupid, stupid enemy..."

"Be that as it may," Wayne replies to close off that line of thinking. "I have the Conn," he declares.

"Aye, Star Admiral Centara has the Conn," Ward says as he moves to his customary secondary position as the Weps Fire Director.

"Commander La Flaga, if you want to move to rejoin the _Archangel_, now would be the time," Wayne replies.

"Thank you, Star Admiral," Mu replies as he heads for the blast doors out and toward the landing bay that he was becoming all too familiar with.

"All right, for now we assume this is a hostile contact but we definitely do not shoot first. On the C3, issue order for condition 2 rules of engagement, then kill C3. If they make us, go full live. We'll see if we can spook them into surrendering when they see what they are up against."

"Conn, Sensors, I show a particle phase shifting and magnetic containment anomaly from the tango vessel," the Sensor Boss declares.

"Sensors, Conn, type the anom—"

"Conn, Sensors, positron cannon signature two o'clock low, headed for the dock at Mendel! Point of origin tango vessel!"

"Condition one!" Wayne barks immediately. "All capabilities released, all forces standby to attack on my order," Wayne continues. Lacus knew that positron weapons were serious business, but she had never seen someone with so much power under his command go from passive to damn near frightened in such a short time.

"Conn, Sensors, estimate enemy positron cannon yield at 100 megatons per cross-section, focused beam delivery, estimate scatter of one centimeters per kilometer linear travel. That's a shipping-killer in a small package, boss."

"Conn, aye," Wayne replies immediately. "Warhawk Team, Fleet Command. You are final protective fire on the _Mjolnr_. If you so much as width a hostile act, sink the bastard. Sierra, Thunderbolt, you two will prepare to flank the enemy and hit them hard. _Montgomery_, _Hyperion_, I want you to drop into the alley and close up on the enemy's rear, make it clear they just walked into a death-trap."

"Conn, Comms, enemy Warship is transmitting in the clear, ordering the _Archangel_ and renegade Aube ship to surrender. CO of tango vessel name Natarle Badgiruel, former officer that served with Captain Ramius."

"When they finish discussing the matter, call the _Archangel_ and inform them we are in position to surround the tango," Wayne orders.

"Conversation's over, looks like it's gonna be a monitor scrap, sir," the Comms officer notes sourly. "_Archangel_, _Mjolnr_ Comms, we have forces in position to flank and surround the _Dominion_ at this time. How do you want to proceed, over?"

"_Mjolnr_, can you hit them hard enough to stun them and reduce their ship's fighting capacity without killing the ship entirely?" Captain Ramius asks in response.

"_Archangel_, Fleet Command, we can do that. Stand by, draw their mobile forces toward Mendel while we cut the ship off and hammer on it, over," Wayne requests.

"_Archangel_ reads and can do, Star Admiral. Wish us luck," she concludes before cutting the comms.

"_Montgomery_, _Hyperion_, Fleet Command. Begin your move. Sierra Element, begin your assault in three-zero seconds."

"Conn, Sensors, enemy Warship appears to have moved into the debris zone dead ahead of Sierra Element, appears to be using the zone for cover and conceal."

"They are jockeying for a good firing position on the _Archangel_," Commander Ward notes, observing the holotank with Commander Waltfeld.

"Same thing I'd do in their position, move in and out of cover, shoot when I can, draw the _Archangel_ ragged, kill it off, then do the _Kusanagi_," Waltfeld replies.

"Then we throw a wrench in the gearbox, see how well she operates when things lose their momentum in an instant," Wayne replies. Magi often considered the measure of a commander not to be their successes, but how well they un-screw a genuinely bad situation.

"Sierra Element moving out now," the Flight Boss notes.

"Here's for you, kid," Wayne declares, guessing that the enemy commander was far younger than he.

-x-

"Forbidden, Calamity and Raider are engaging the two enemy machines from Aube, Commander," the Operator on the _Dominion_ notes.

"Very well. Helm, prepare to take us out of the debris field for a shot at the Archangel. After we fire, we duck back into the debris field, clear?"

"Aye, ma'am," the ship's pilot replies.

"Conn, sensors, contact close to starboard! It's huge!" the sensors operator shouts.

"What?" Natarle and Azraiel both shout at once.

When a camera tracked in on the large object that just pirouetted out from behind a massive piece of debris, there was no doubt that the white and ungainly machine was a massive space-use weapon of war. The notion was only reinforced as its top blast covers opened up and four sets of anti-ship missiles were launched from the machine straight at her ship. There was no time to bark an order, the missiles had a flight time of only four seconds, and though the CIWS managed to intercept three the remainder struck her ship.

The violence was not over yet, as a second machine of the same type followed three seconds behind it, and this one launched five containers of much smaller guided missiles. Again the Igelstellung guns went to work, but the action was akin to stopping the tide with a bucket. Immediately she could see the damage board was growing angry red streaks, and she figured there had to be more of them.

A third enemy unit struck the rear of the ship with beam cannons, the damage most notable to the rear missile tubes on the starboard side but one of her engines took a direct hit in addition to the minor hits already incurred by the swarm of missiles attack. A fourth unit similar to the ones that had fired missiles at her struck immediately thereafter from yet another angle, this one using a very large beam cannon and more of the larger missile groups, though the pilot missed more than hit.

The coup de main to Natarle's inner dread was the fifth unit, a larger and olive drab unit that popped over the debris chunk instead of around, firing almost top-down on the Dominion with beam cannons that sprayed the forward deck and starboard side of the ship, as well as the characteristic sparking of ballistic cannon shells bouncing off the armor. As it screamed past the bridge it even fired missiles out of its rear, most of which impacted on the port side but also served to strip more of the Igelstellung guns off the ship.

"What...what the fuck were those things?" Director Azraiel asks in clear panic. Natarle spared him a quick glance and could not help but notice the crotch of his suit was far darker blue than the rest of it.

"Damage report!"

"Hold on," the Sensors officer says as he reaches up and checks the Chief of the Boat for his vitals. "Chief's alive but unconscious. "All sensor systems down, Ma'am."

"All Igelstellungs on the Starboard side are gone, Valiant one, no response, Valiant two, system malfunction, Gottfried one, damaged, Gottfried two, functional, Lohengrins functional, we've lost all anti-ship missiles on the starboard side. Remainder missiles are functional," the Weps Officer notes.

"Engine output down fifteen percent, Captain, our thrusters must have been hit," the Helmsman notes.

"Ship structural damage at 35 percent, Captain," the Sensor Officer notes.

"Starboard MS Catapult is jammed closed, deck crew reports 50 minutes or more to repair. Port catapult is functional," the Operator notes.

"Something is not right. Those weren't like anything ZAFT uses, and they weren't Alliance." Natarle muses. "Helm, take us back into the alley, then away from the colony. Fire control, as soon as we have a shot at the _Archangel_, take it. Fire signal flares as soon as we're clear of the debris. This doesn't feel right…" Natarle's immediate reaction was what she deemed the best for the ship: get the hell away from whatever those things were, since they had the firepower to tear up an _Archangel_-class in one speedy hit-and-run they definitely could destroy her ship.

"Aye, Captain, estimate clear of debris in two minutes," the Helmsman replies.

"Sensors, I want a read on what's out there as soon as we clear the debris field, use the infrared tracking if needed," she orders.

Two minutes turned out to be a hellishly long time to wait for Natarle, much less the rest of the crew. "Captain, contacts to port! They're—" the Sensor operator never got a chance to complete his sentence. Immediately the ship was rocked massively by five hellish impacts. The five slugs struck the forward section of the port-side leg, tearing into the catapult and the hull with ease and venting it to space.

It didn't take Natarle long to track in on the firing platform, either. "Damn, what kind of warships are those? They're as big as the _Dominion_!"

Azraiel had moved to the afflicted window to check. "They're...not ZAFT," he moans just as the nose of the port-side ship was backlit by the flash of a naval cannon that fired several rounds in volley, and Natarle watched the tracers zoom in on her ship with lethal accuracy, even counting for her attempted maneuver and inertia. The violent impacts struck the _Dominion_ amidships, leading to the next damage report:

"Captain! Port-side valiant is destroyed!"

"Gottfrieds!" Natarle shouts.

"Oh SHIT!" Azraiel shouts as he uselessly shoves himself away from the window.

The whole ship jarred violently, enough so that Natarle thought the ship had moved a meter to starboard relative to where she had been floating. Her operator she could clearly see had destroyed his console by way of busting it with his head, and the way the side of his head was bleeding she figured it was at the cost of his life. She wrenched her eyes from that horrid scene to where the slug struck, and gasped in greater horror immediately. The whole port-side catapult had been sheared clean off the ship and sent spinning away by whatever struck it, and instinctively she looked to the starboard catapult to see a massive metal slug buried halfway into the inside door on the starboard catapult.

"Commander, the _Archangel_ is hailing us! They're to starboard with guns deployed!"

"On speaker," Natarle orders grimply.

"Attention _Dominion_, this is Captain Murrue Ramius of the neutral Warship _Archangel_, I think it bears mentioning that we happened across some unusual fellows when we first arrived here. The Mobile Armors that struck your ship initially, and the two Warships to your port that outgun your ship three-to-one are only part of their force. I respectfully request you surrender, Commander Badgiruel, there will be no escape from here, and you can't win against the force you stumbled into."

Natarle's reaction was the classic question of a Captain: "What will happen to my crew?"

"Your crew will be held until the conclusion of hostilities, then released," Captain Ramius replies.

It was not a hard decision in the end: death or surrender. "Very well, the _Dominion_ officially surrenders."

"Stand by, Marines will be launched to take control of your vessel, Commander Badgiruel." There was silence on the radio for a few moments, but they could tell it had not closed out yet. "I am sorry it had to come to this, Natarle. They have a saying that perfectly matches the war: nobody is right if everyone is wrong. Knowing that, I can never again serve the Alliance."

"Who are they?" Natarle asks, her curiosity piqued by such a philosophy.

"They are a history and future that we have never known, bloodied by wars we can't even begin to imagine properly. They are the Magi, and they want this war to end as much as we do." If Murrue could sound any more grave, how was lost on Natarle.

-x-

Gerald Lightbringer had been out and about alone, in his custom Neue Ziel (U), patrolling the rear of the _Mjolnr_ and the area around the solar sail, which was only now being retracted. When the call to combat came, he immediately began moving forward, toward the area where he figured combat to be most likely between the MS, being about a hundred thousand kilos forward of the front docking bays at Mendel.

When he emerged from the debris field, it was practically face to face with enemy MS facing off against the M1 Astray team from the _Kusanagi_, which was itself entangled in one of the structural cables from a destroyed colony. One of the pilots was attempting to use a beam saber to free the ship, but the beam wasn't slicing through it nearly fast enough. "Move aside, pilot," Gerald orders on the Astray frequency.

"Yes, sir," she replies immediately, then jets aside. Gerald moved in close, grabbed an undamaged section of the cable with the right-side remote arm on the Neue Ziel, and pulls it away from the ship's superstructure. In classic dirty trick of the Neue Ziel class of Mobile Armors, he ejected the four sub-arms, lit off the heavier beam sabers contained in each, and in seconds had all four of the sabers applied to the cutting area.

"Sir, behind you!" the pilot of the Astray unit shouts as she fires on something approaching the back of his Neue Ziel. It did not take Gerald long to sense the pilot's inner feelings, and automatically he tripped the micromissile launcher to fire twelve anti-MS missiles at the incoming bogey. As hoped, the pilot ducked around them, firing his own beam weapon at the Neue Ziel which made it no farther than the I-field carried on Gerald's machine.

"Fool," Gerald says as he fires the three beam guns to the rear of the machine, one of which missed but the other two were deflected by the heavy mobile shields the enemy MS carried. "Not bad, yet not good enough," he declares after the beams are deflected.

"Tag, you're it," the enemy pilot declares as four rail gun slugs impact the back of the Neue Ziel. Not one penetrated, as expected.

"Very well," Gerald replies with an obvious ration of cheer to voice. After a moment the left claw arm launches clear of the Neue Ziel and immediately vectors in on the enemy Gundam, the arm itself being half the size of a decent Mobile Suit.

"Hey! No fair!" the enemy pilot shouts as he ducks around two beams and deflects a third.

"This kid is good, he can dodge a beam weapon from travel latency across a few thousand kilometers," Gerald notes. "Let's see how well he does up close and personal..." the Neue Ziel had almost completely chopped through the cable with its four sub-arms even while Gerald controlled the arm separate of the rest of the armor. Something in that combination rather frightened Asagi Caldwell, the pilot of the first Astray that had tried the cable.

"There! We're free!" Cagalli shouts on the C3 band.

"And now I play the game in earnest," Gerald declares as his Neue Ziel rotates to inverted and immediately jets away from the _Kusanagi_ and straight toward the much harried enemy Gundam. "Come back here you pansy!" Gerald shouts as the enemy turns to try and flee toward the _Dominion_, which was just coming under fire from the _Montgomery_ and _Hyperion_. The pilot found little solace in that direction as the whole starboard launch bay of the ship was ripped clean off by weapons fire, one of the doors flying almost within distance where his Gundam could have reached out and touched it as it passed.

The momentary distraction of trying to retreat was all Gerald required. The right main arm from his Armor launched out and grappled around the enemy Gundam, squeezing in to the point that the Gundam began making creepy creaking sounds and the main monitor busted out audibly over the radio. "Man you fight dirty! Knock this shit off!" the pilot shouts.

"I don't remember anyone putting rules to this game, kid," Gerald declares in an evil intonation.

"Oh, when I get loose, it is so your ass!" he declares.

"Oh, the times I've heard that one before," Gerald replies sarcastically. "Hang around for a few, kid, let's go talk this over with your friends," and as Gerald moved forward toward the two other Gundams, he drew his arm back in to hold the captured machine in close.

Athrun's Justice Gundam was facing off against a black machine that appeared to have a lot of maneuverability, where Kira's Freedom Gundam was facing down a greenish unit that carried a lot of guns. The black machine was closer, so Gerald targeted it and began firing his 105mm Autocannons and the array of missiles carried forward, twelve micromissiles and four large missiles. The hits came as a very rude shock to the pilot of the black Gundam, as the firepower carried by the large armor that had just shot him up was immense, but not enough to outdo their defensive measures.

"DAMNIT! Who put this final boss in the game!" someone shouts on an open channel, likely the pilot he just shot.

"A final boss, am I? Such an honor, I daresay," Gerald notes. "Oops, looks like one of the 'grunts' just 0wnzor'd your sorry ass," Gerald declares as the distraction was enough for Athrun to spear the enemy machine through the upper chest, taking out the machine's main battery. No more threat there. "Thanks for the assist, Justice," Gerald says as he continues moving onward to the third enemy machine, flying through the debris of two destroyed mass-production units that had come along as well only to be killed off already.

"Game over for me," the defeated pilot declares.

"There may be a continue button after all is said and done, kid. Don't reset your console yet."

"Agh! Damnit!" Kira shouts as he dodges around several beams only to get hit by a series of bazooka rounds from the enemy machine.

"I got 'em," Gerald says. The left arm of the Neue Ziel launched outward and toward the enemy machine at a strange angle, coming up from below the enemy machine. The enemy was not caught unawares, though a beam fired at it only managed to render unusable the beam saber in the center of the claw.

"What the fuck?" the third enemy pilot shouts. "Let go you bastard!"

"Guilty as charged," Gerald acknowledges. "No way in hell I'm letting go until you surrender, kid, sorry."

"Bite me!" the pilot was not caught completely unawares, though, and the two beam cannons over his shoulders aimed down to fire on the armor plates of the left shoulder of the Neue Ziel.

"Can't have that, kid," Gerald says as the arm maneuvers the enemy machine into line with the beam cannons on the left side of the Neue Ziel, and one shot sheared half the head off as well as the two cannons. "Now you gonna surrender?"

"Fuck off you bastard!"

"I thought I already told you that I was a bastard, you don't have to keep repeating it," Gerald declares with a large dose of humor. "Ah, I got it," Gerald says as he launches the right arm, still containing the first Gundam, on an intercept course to the left arm. The two arms collide at high speed with a hellish translated sound of impact back up the control wires. "You two gonna surrender now, or do I do it again?"

"Ow, my freaking head, man," the newly-captured of the two moans by way of reply.

"When I get outta here, you are so freaking dead your mom will feel it when I'm through with you," the first of the captured declares as Gerald reels both arms in.

"Slight problem with that theory, kid, you'd be delivering injury to a steel canister, not a lady," Gerald declares coldly. "And for your intransigence," Gerald launches both of his arms out to the sides away from his machine, where they fly for several kilometers to each side then turn sharply inward, headed on a collision course for each other right in front of the Neue Ziel.

"FUUUUUCCCCCKKKK!" Both of them shouts as they zoom toward each other and strike extremely hard. Over the sound of crunching metal the radio transmitted the sound of one of them puking and the other moaning.

"C'mon, kids, just surrender and be done with it, I don't have all day to fuck around," Gerald requests in a bored fashion.

"Uncle, uncle! I give up! I give up! I surrender! Whatever it takes!" the more recent of the two captured declares.

"You rat bastard, I'm still gonna get you for this," the first captured declares in a very tired tone. "But for now, I need some rest," he concludes.

"Good decision, gentlemen. We'll discuss vengeance here in a day or two." Gerald had reeled the arms in to the body of his mobile armor as he begins the trek back to the ship. On the way, he stopped to grapple and restrain the last of the enemy Gundams by way of the sub-arms on the Neue Ziel.

-x-x-x-

It was a surreal experience to the Marines entering the port-side bay. They had all trained in the Sims on storming and subsuming an _Archangel_-class, given their own experience of naval construction that where a force will build one, they build a lot of them. In this case, things were shaping up in that direction, as this was ship number two of the _Archangel_ line and it had taken a severe beating to bring to a halt. The Mobile Armors had ripped up its starboard side, followed by several good direct hits to the port side from Naval Autocannons and Gauss Rifles. In fact, the arse end of a Heavy N-Gauss slug was sticking out of the starboard launch catapult, it was that powerful.

Inside the hangar, there was one non-functional mass-pro MS, which would be an interesting find from an intelligence standpoint, since it would be an opportunity to completely strip down some local equipment and review their technology and manufacturing skills. From a combat standpoint, a pair of 120mm short-charge Autocannon slugs dumped into the cockpit door made sure that it was going nowhere fast.

The other thing of note was the amount of dead bodies, though it was not the number that appalled the marines, it was how flimsy their encounter suits were. The spall kicked up from the naval cannons tearing through the bay must have bounced around until it began killing the crewmen on deck, which would have been a frightening sight the Marines figured. There was evidence that not all the deck crew had been killed, just a lot of them.

"Poor kids," one of the Marine Star Captains declares as he pushes a female tech away from a personnel access hatch she never got open in time enough. "Still and all, you pays your money, you takes your chances," he continues, speaking of the soldier's art.

"And in this case, they definitely rolled snake-eyes," a Point Commander replies.

"Hey Marv, your GF is in Mendel, how's things coming in there?"

"Street cleanup and all that," Marvin replies. "Processing and interring the dead, verifying no more of that anthrax shit in the colony, restoring public utilities to full working order, things like that."

"And the GARM Facility?" the other Star Captain assigned to this operation asks.

"Old Man Wilhelm is working on cleaning it up right now." Old Man Wilhelm was a reference to Senior Medical Officer (Captain) Wilhelm, whose specialty through training was genetics but whose main practice was trauma. If anyone on the ship could clean up the facility and get it functioning at 100 percent efficiency, he was it.

"I'm in," the Marine at the door says as the door slides open. The airlock was large enough for two Marines to enter and transition to the inside of the ship at a time, though with six personnel airlocks across three decks of the ship, they were getting in a lot faster than two at a time.

Inside had become a significantly different story. Gunfire could be heard up and down the corridors of the ship, something the Marines immediately picked up on. "Hot ship, people, they be a mutiny on board, sounds like," one of the other Marines declares.

"Roger that," someone else replies. "6-Delta, I want you guys to head up for the bridge. 4-Delta, start sweeping corridors but do so only in full point formations. No jerking around here, I don't want to explain to your mommies what went wrong," the Galaxy Commander orders.

"Aff, Galaxy Commander," the Star Captain of 4-Delta replies.

The rest of Marvin's point had formed up in about three minutes, all the while as the sounds of gunfire shifted from corridor to corridor, the echo patterns changing with it. Once readied, the point of five Marines moved out, their anti-infantry specialist taking point in such a case.

"Man, sucks being on a ship without gravity, I'm burning through my thruster fuel here," their Point Commander declares.

"If we have to, we can find a fuel pipe and stick a valve in it, the fuel these things use will work in our thruster packs," the EWO (6) for the team notes.

"Too bad they don't have beer pipes like we do," William notes with a grin.

"We only have beer pipes because the AI has a sense of humor and put some in for us poor Marines," the Point Commander replies.

"Hah!" their pointman declares.

As the Point approached a four-way intersection inside the corridors of the ship, an Earth Alliance crewlady was drifting perpendicuar to their approach, firing a pistol in the direction away from where she was going. Before she could realize what was going on or who she was passing, the pointman reached out and grabbed her arm deftly but not hard enough to break it, then dragged her out of the line of fire.

"All right, lady, what the hell's going on in this ship?"

"Oh my fucking God, what are you?"

"We're Marines from the warship _Hyperion_," their CO replies. "Now, what is going on here?"

"Blue Cosmos is trying to take over or destroy the ship. Please don't hurt me," she requests.

"Down this hall until you encounter some more Marines. They'll direct you to a secured zone. Move out, lady," the Point Commander orders. In moments she had bounced off a wall and was headed in the direction ordered.

A hand grenade detonated among the five Armored Marines, but failed to cause any damage to the heavy armor of the Marines. It was enough of a rude shock to piss them off, however, and one of them responded.

"You punks! Try this on!" A cluster grenade pack was thrown down the hall in response, and the infantry waited for the distinctive double detonation of the device, first as the primary charge ejected the secondary grenades in several directions, then the secondary charges went off and caused the real fragmentation and casualties. When their pointman looked around the corner with his weapon-mounted camera system, there were parts of four bodies recognizable down the corridor but he could have sworn he counted more arms than just four bodies' worth.

"My good deed for the day is done," the Demolitions expert notes.

"Hey! You the Marines?" An Earth Alliance officer shouts as he drifts down another corridor towards them.

"Yeah, we are," their pointman declares.

"We've got a problem up on the bridge, Blue Cosmos is torturing the Captain to get instructions to fire the Lohengrin cannons. If they do that, your fleet won't have a choice but to sink this ship."

"Oh shit," the Point Commander says. "Lead the way, kid, but if you lead us into an ambush its your ass first, then the rest of them."

"Follow me," he says as he leads them right to an emergency staircase. "Up this way is the bridge, I swear it," the officer declares.

"Johnny, Marvin, drop your shields and head up. Kill off the Blue Cosmos pricks and secure the rest."

"Aff, sir," Johnny, the infantry specialist, says as he ejects his shield and also ejects the heavy machine gun he had mounted to the right shoulder of his armor, since it was obvious the two meters of barrel would not fit well in an emergency crawlspace. Marvin did the same, of course, though his weapons ejected included an infantry particle cannon and a 50mm short-charge autocannon. "I got point," Johnny notes as he worms his way into the crawlspace and starts heading up.

Marvin followed close to the infantry specialist, and as he hit the top Johnny had already jetted forward and into the bridge, firing his M4 Assault Rifle into visibly threatening persons. Marvin jetted forward and immediately turned right as per proper entry form, and only one armed tango was in sight, so Marvin gave him a pair of three-round bursts in the chest from five meters.

"DAMNIT!" some lousy punk in a blue pinstripe suit shouts as he reaches into his sports jacket to pull out a pistol and take aim at the Marines. He only got one shot off before Marin sighted him up and fired three rounds. Both were drifting in the zero gravity, though, and instead of three to the chest the punk took three to his right arm.

"Point Commander, we need a medic up here," Johnny says. "Marv, secure those guns," Johnny orders.

"Who...who are you?" one of the other officers asks.

"Marines," Johnny says. "Oh, good Gods," he swears as he gets his first decent look at the Captain. "Sir, better make that real fast, the Captain's been shot up real bad."

"Unlock the turbolift and the med will be up there in a moment," the Point Commander orders.

"Where?"

"Side...my chair..." the Captain moans out. Since Johnny could not see any controls on the port side of the chair, he moved around to the starboard side and found the panel. He retracted the blast barrier and threw the toggle for the turbolift power.

"It's unlocked, Point Commander, send him up," Johnny declares.

"Hey, guys, which console is the weapons console?" Marvin asks.

"Uh, that one," one of the remaining guys points to the upper starboard operator's chair.

Marvin rips the back panel off the console by hand and looses it aside. Unlike the others in his team, Marvin carried smaller grenades but a lot more of them, for a larger number of smaller detonations. In this case, he pulled one of the smaller nades, hooked the pin on the pin catch built into his shoulder plate (7), yanked down to arm the weapon, and set the grenade into the exposed circuitry for the weapons console. "Fire in the hole," he says without moving away from the console. Moments later the electronics were rapidly evacuated from the back of the console as the polymer face cover and screen was shattered and sent flying upward. "All weapons systems disabled, command, threat to fleet has been neutralized."

"Good show, people. Let's finish securing this pig and kill off the rest of the Blue Cosmos pricks," their Star Captain declares.

-x-x-x-

"Acknowledged, Galaxy Commander," Star Admiral Centara replies. "All forces, this is Fleet Command. Secure from condition two, enemy vessel has been neutralized at this time. _Hyperion_, Command, prepare to rig ad-hoc tow measures to bring the ship in when Marines confirm ship is secured and personnel extracted."

"_Hyperion_ acknowledges, command."

"It was almost too easy to warrant a line on our codex, Star Admiral," Commander Ward notes.

"Aff, I will agree on that, but that simply means we have done the battle justice this time around. More is the better the enemy was stupid enough to send one ship instead of a whole fleet," Wayne concludes.

"What is so wrong about that?" Commander Waltfeld asks.

"In a real fleet operations, one ship is not enough of a stalking platform to get the job done, Commander. History is riddled with cases where one ship was caught alone and easily overwhelmed, and such cases far outnumber battles where one ship won the day. If this conduct is the measure of the Earth Alliance, it will be ZAFT that presents the only noteworthy challenge in stopping this war."

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

Time keeps on killin', killin', killin'... You get the picture. I seem to be running out of time to do things any more and have a lot more things to do in that time, so unfortunately my writing has to give in favor of more important pursuits like paying the bills. Still and all, I do make progress each day, and I swear I shall not give up on these endeavors, I will complete them. If there is one thing above all else, I hate leaving a story undone more than anything else. And I don't want to leave a good jaw hangin' when I know I can complete it, so...

For what it is worth, this is the first chapter that shares at least part of a title with the original story. Fast Breaks And Slow Torture, chapter eight of the original, was the first whereby you saw the forces of the Mjolnr in actual combat, and the title represented how the battle went down. This time around, the title refers to more than just the battle with the Dominion, it has significance beyond just the procession of combat and the whims of fate.

This one was a good one. It gave me an opportunity to correct more than a few things I did not like about the original way these scenes showed in the first revision. This is pretty much my definitive view of how the happenings went down around Mendel, but keep in min that Mu and Kira had a bad encounter with Creuset inside Mendel, which is occupied by Marines at this time and things can and will get hairy in there, though not for the same reason as they did in SEED. And Gerald is definitely not through proving the power of the Neue Ziel Upgrade, not by a long shot. Stay tuned, things will get bloody quickly on that score.

I am still preparing the opening documents for the Gundam to Battletech conversion right now, so if any of you readers want to join in, message me and we can get things rolling as soon as I get the basics written up and ready.

That's all for today. Next up: ZAFT goes looking for trouble in Mendel and finds that the Ghosts of Mendel are loud, violent and not all that pleasant to deal with even from inside a Mobile Suit. ZAFT gets their first object lesson in the power of Magi Mobile Armor tactics and training for a parting gift, as well.

* * *

Review Replies:

On an aside about the reviews, I posted the last chapter at 4P Eastern, and in less time than it took me to give my 1911-A1 a thorough cleaning I already had reviews from Frasermage and Knives. That r0x0r big time, thanks guys!

**Knives91**: Murdoch will have his fun in chapters to come, but not today. Him and his crew are going to get along famously with some of the crew of the _Mjolnr_, of course... Imagine, if you will, the chaos of Murdoch's Madmen and the Apeshit AsTechs of the Mjolnr...scary, very scary...

**FraserMag**e: Magi C3 systems are actually a severely-upgraded equivalent to the ComStar C3I system. In Aerospace use they function the same as the ComStar C3I system but due to the distributed computing power of advanced Magi war machines, they don't suffer the 6-unit limit that ComStar does, and most of the units have it integrated directly into the TTS as the first step to upgrading the units to Revision 6. Definitely not fair for the enemy, but it is a nifty counter to thousands of enemy Mobile Suits and smaller Warships :P

The joke about the Lightspeed Drive (referring to the Jump Core in the Mjolnr) is actually Dearka, not Mu. Mu can be a smartass sometimes, but he knew that this was not the time and certainly not the place to be pushing his luck like that, outnumbered seven-to-one in Warships and almost 100-to-1 on smaller units.

**EtienneOfTheWestWind**: You did not interpret the autopsy incorrectly, but keep in mind that such stories are almost always more complex than initially appears.

Well, though GundamOfficial did not write out after the end of SEED, I will have to write it out as per the modification of the history here. And the Earth Alliance is not going to get to take all the liberties they did between SEED and SEED Destiny.

Diana and Lacus will cross paths in time to come, rest assured. It will be a bit of an unusual encounter, as well.

The GARM facility is going to be a lot more of a hotbed this time around than it was in the first revision, and you can rest assured that the Magi Eugenics program is going to get a few good revisions once Coordinator ingenuity is applied to it. As to Kira's status as the only known viable product thereof, he will be informed in a far more civil fashion than Rau did, but not for a while since Doctor Hibiki's records still have not been cracked open (too much encryption for smaller distributed computing systems like the Marines' Armors).

**Necroblade**: Why, thank you for the compliment. Always a good thing to hear I have someone hooked :P

Your analysis is pretty much on target about the Mjolnr, but as this chapter's discussion demonstrate, there is no getting around impact on the world and its politics. The ship literally can't go anywhere until its Jump Engine is fixed, and they can't do that in the middle of a global race war. Not to mention, Magi have this strange belief that terrorists need to die whenever possible, so...

The PS cannon slugs are going to show up as to how the enemy got those, but not for now, not for now... As to Phase Shift evening the odds, keep in mind that PS does not stop beam weapons, and Magi prefer a balanced load approach (missile, beam, and ballistic weapons) that will definitely give the enemy a rude shock when they go head to head with the Mjolnr. The other thing to keep in mind is that the Magi favor defensive capability over raw firepower, and Magi armor is dual-use (protects against ballistic and beam weapons equally) so even ZAFT's latest MS is going to have to hammer on Magi units to score a kill. Hammer a lot, actually, in some cases.

Well, as this chapter shows, the Dominion made the same mistake as the Archangel did, they did not see the Magi forces until well after it was too late to run away screaming. Only difference is, the Dominion was an EA-aligned ship and had to be dealt with to maintain 'stealth'. Not to mention taking potshots at an ally of a Magi ship tends to bring down their wrath in swift fashion, so... On the matter of the Clyne Faction and the Junk Guild, suffice it to say I have read through the Astray series thoroughly and things will be a bit different this time around from the original.

**Knightowl 4183**: Thanks for the review, comrade.

Laser Designators are a problematic system of their own, actually, they can be spoofed very easily if you know what you are doing. LD technology is used in certain circumstances in ground action (TAG Spotting Lasers) but not in space by the Star Empires, where using IR countermeasures makes using a laser-tracking system far easier to spoof a LD weapon than a semi-active radar homing missile or even an electro-optical guided missile. And, another thing to keep in mind when touting the usefulness of N-Jammers, the sensors on the Mjolnr can literally track, classify and target commercial aircraft in the atmosphere of Terra while the Mjolnr itself orbits the moon. Magi sensor systems are more than powerful enough to burn through N-Jammer interference, it is a simple case of electronic communications principle: if you have interference in your channel, crank up the wattage until you overcome it.

Artillery on the ground is subject to the same principle as the sensors on the Mjolnr: crank up your radio's wattage until you burn through the interference. Just be sure to put on a tin-foil hat and lead underwear if you intend on being close to the antenna, that's all. As to targeting at range, the use of infantry with laser designators for laser-guided artillery shells (commonly called copperheads) is my first thought, otherwise you can use a curtain barrage to the same effect with a lot more guns firing. Magi artillery and fire support practices will get a workout in the side story Inferno In Chicago here in the next few chapters of it, so read up if you want to see some serious carnage and gun action.

Dobergun (Gundam Wing) is classified as a shell-firing cannon, not a beam weapon. Gundam Wing suffers from what I call 'Gundam Wing Syndrome': Everything shot is explosive and any Mobile Suit can be killed by even a peripheral hit. This would make it appear that the Dobergun is a beam weapon, when in reality it is not. I use the suits and Gundam of the Wing universe, but definitely under more realistic terms.

* * *

The Gripe Sheet:

I don't think anyone has done any complaining this time around.

* * *

Footnotes:

(1): Sponson Assembly is a type of turret integrated into the side of a larger unit that allows the gun in question to traverse and elevate, but is not the kind of top-mounted rotating turret you normally see on tanks. In fact, a Sponson turret system was used on the first battle tanks in world war one, they are the side-mounts for the smaller cannons.

(2): Pommel refers to the end of the handle away from the blade (of a sword) or head (of a hammer). Piece of triptych: the word 'pummel' is derived from the word pommel, and originally meant to strike repeated rapid blows with the pommel of a sword.

(3): Flight Marshals are the personnel you see on the ground of airport or airbase footage with the orange wands directing craft where to go.

(4): **Reg**ulation.

(5): Chief of the Boat is the highest-ranking Warrant Officer or Petty Officer on duty.

(6): Electronic Warfare Officer. Yes, even Marines have electronic warfare capabilities.

(7): Because many grenades have pins too small for an Armored Marine to get a finger into, a small metal hook on the exterior of the shoulder plate forward surface is used to pull the pins. This is especially useful when Marines are using indigenous or enemy weapons, which all too often have pins too small for them to use without this feature.

* * *

**TRO SECTION**: This time around, the unit in the microscope is the Dendrobium Mobile Armor.

**AeroTech 2 Vessel Technical Readout**

**Class/Model/Name**: Gundam Dendrobium Orchis RX-78GP03

**Tech: **Mixed Tech / 3067

**Vessel Type: **Aerodyne Dropship (Mobile Armor, See below)

**Rules: **Level 3, Standard design

**Mass: **490 tons

**Hull / Frame: **Lunar Industrial Orchis Frame

**Length: **40 meters

**Power Plant: **TelStar Standard (C)

**Safe Thrust: **8

**Maximum Thrust: **12

**Armor Type: ***Gundanium*

**Armament:**  
1 Anahiem Electronics Mega Beam Cannon (C)*  
1 Anahiem Electronics I-Field Generator (C)*  
2 Anahiem Electronics Beam Saber Claw (C)*  
6 Modaco Arms "Ultra-Slammers" Large Missile Pod (C)*  
6 Delta Dart Ripple Pods Micromissile Pod (C)*  
4 Modaco Arms Chain Mine Pod (C)*  
4 Raytheon Crusher Series Folding Bazooka Pod (C)*

**Manufacturer: ** Lunar Industrial & Technical (And multiple others)  
**Location: ** Blue Moon Shipyards (And Multiple Others)  
**Communications System: ** TelStar HN **  
Targeting & Tracking System: **Mark 4 TTS

**Overview:**

When the Magi first encountered the Dendrobium weapons platform, it came as a severely rude shock to even the battle-hardened Aerofighter corps that first faced it. Not even the best of the enemy units prior faced had such a powerful platform that combined amazing speed, modular firepower and significant survivability all into one package. Initially, the Magi had no real way to counter it beyond spraying the area it was coming through with naval autocannon fire in the hopes that one shot took it out. So effective was this combination that right off the bat the first Dendrobium encountered took out a Magi McKenna-class Warship and its escorting Dropships with only minor damage to itself.

As with all units fought by the Magi, in due time (and enough destroyed Warships later) an intact Dendrobium was captured, as well as its development staff, and thus was born the Dendrobium into the Magi ranks.

**Capabilities:**

The Magi Touman (Armed Forces) classify the Dendrobium as a Fleet Interceptor Mobile Armor, which in and of itself is a bit of a misnomer. The Dendrobium is not really a Mobile Armor, it is a composite unit consisting of the Orchis Mobile Frame and the Stamen Mobile Suit. The Orchis itself cannot move or fight, it requires the Mobile Suit at the core of the unit to operate, therefore it is more closely classified as a composite unit. On the other hand, there is no question whatsoever as to the Fleet Interceptor designation.

The main component of the Dendrobium is its incredible speed. With six standard-grade Dropship-equivalent engines built onto its 490-ton-rated frame, the Dendrobium is literally faster than all but the smallest of Aerofighters. No common-production Warship, Dropship or Small Craft can match its incredible speed, and the Dendrobium has literally been known to outrun capital-grade and standard-grade missiles in battle. The six-G continual acceleration the Dendrobium is known for is also married to a pair of long legs, with forty-five tons of fuel in internal reserve the unit can operate for over two hours straight at maximum burn in a combat situation, or can operate for four days at maximum strategic burn if transiting the distances between planets. At slower speeds, the Dendrobium is capable for operating over six hours in tactical situations or over three weeks if transiting between planets at standard (one-G) continual acceleration.

Few Dropships (of which it closely resembles) can match it in survivability due to the 72 tons of Gundanium armor the Magi manufacture this unit with. The forward section of the Dendrobium can withstand a direct hit from the largest-caliber Naval Autocannon available, though not much more than that, or several hits from smaller classes of guns or weapons. Dendrobium units are known to literally fly through swarms of capital missiles and come out on the far side intact and ready to return the favor to launching parties. This capability is enhanced greatly by the I-Field Generator that is standard on the Dendrobium, which disrupts Naval Particle Cannons, Naval Beam Cannons, Buster Weapons, and Mega Particle Cannons. The I-Field Generator carried by the Dendrobium is significantly larger than the individual generators carried on the Neue Ziel, but the combination of generators the Neue Ziel carries has more power overall and more redundancy.

The other half of the ship's shock factor came to the Magi in the form of its weapons, both hard-mount and modular. The primary cannon of the Dendrobium is a single Mega Beam Cannon, one shot of which put a big hole in just about anything it was used on, including Magi warships, and this gun carries the range necessary to reach out and touch ships at medium naval ranges, a shocking trait for a unit so small. The other hard-mount weapon class that gave Magi the fits initially, and continues to give the enemies of the Empire heartburn in bulk, is the paired anti-warship beam sabers. Though with absurdly short ranges when compared to such weapons as Naval Gauss Rifles, the two beam sabers are capable of cutting the bridge clean off smaller Warships and gouging long breaches down the side of heavier Warships, and this all while moving hard and fast through an enemy fleet. A single stroke of the Beam Sabers is capable of veritably annihilating most smaller fighters and causing significant, if not crippling damage to larger fighters, small craft and Dropships. Two of these beam sabers are carried by each Dendrobium, giving it amazing attack ability against a dense-pack of enemies.

Arguably, the piece d' resistance of the Dendrobium is the modular weapons containers carried by the unit. One Dendrobium carries twenty hardpoints that can be loaded with a wide array of weapons, ranging from guided Naval Chain Mines to micromissile pods to large missiles and even carries extra weapons for the Stamen Gundam at the core of the unit. The Large missiles are particularly feared and revered Magi for their amazing punch in such a small package, as one Armor loaded with such missiles is easily capable of bringing down numerous smaller Dropships and putting serious holes in the side or front of a Warship. The Micromissile containers provide the Dendrobium with effective anti-mass firepower, as one container launches 108 missiles capable of causing serious damage to a Mobile Suit or even serious damage to heavier targets in quantity. In common deploy, however, the Chain Mine is the favored weapon for anti-ship work, as one chain can theoretically damage up to three Warships in close formation or can damage every facing of a single ship by wrapping the mine all the way around a ship from starboard fore to port quarter. Also typically carried by the Dendrobium are folding bazookas, beam rifles and folding shields for the Stamen, which can be used while the Stamen is still connected to the Dendrobium or can be used by the Stamen separate from the Dendrobium, should the Orchis mobile platform be damaged too far to be usable.

Another selling point of the Dendrobium is the ease of which the ship can be reloaded, re-outfitted and refueled. The fuel tanks for the unit are a series of external drop-tank fuel cells attached to the rear of the Orchis in various locations. These tanks can be ejected and replaced in a matter of moments by a good refueling crew, the expended tanks recovered and refilled in a matter of minutes, or the tanks can be swapped out by the pilot of the unit using an EVA thruster pack in less than ten minutes. The weapons containers themselves are detachable, and can be replaced in as little as five minutes if ready spares are at hand for the unit. Magi combat doctrine usually stipulates that each Dendrobium have three packs ready at any given time, though this is not always practical in larger fleets. The beam sabers and the Mega Beam Cannon are also modular weapons, and can be replaced in about ten minutes so long as the maintenance crew is forewarned of the replacement and has necessary consumables and a spare staged and ready for the replacement.

**Battle History:**

The history of the Dendrobium is as how the Magi favor it: long and bloody. The deployment of the Dendrobium began in earnest before the Star Empire Wars began, and even then it proved an extremely adept pirate hunter and an extremely powerful platform in Trial By Combat internal to the Empire. Since those first forays, the navies of the Negaverse, Illyaris and Dark Moon have all learned to fear the sight of onrushing Dendrobium just as much as the sight of their parent unit coming headfirst at them (usually the Phalanx-class Superdreadnoughts). There have been few naval problems in the history of the Empire whereby the Dendrobium was not part of the solution enacted.

In one battle that is often considered an exemplary showing of the power of a single Dendrobium, one armor was used to completely smash a Pirate attack on a lone civilian Jumpship basically on pure luck. The armor was being transported by a contract carrier group to a patrol fleet group, though the pilot was with the armor as well at the time. At a layover point while awaiting the arrival of the fleet group, a pirate Jumpship with fighter forces dropped into the nadir jump point a short distance away from the merchants. Seeing a nice, fat target with minimal defenses, the pirates immediately went to work, launching their collection of older-model fighters and two Leopard CV Dropships to force the issue. In response, the Mobile Armor pilot launched from the transport Dropship he was in, without the benefit of a catapult or flight controller, and moved to intercept the fighters first with only the single load of weapons he was carrying at the time. In three minutes protracted maneuver fighting the Dendrobium was able to bring down four of the twelve fighters and cripple one of the Leopards while damaging the other. Severely enraged, the Pirates continued their assault on the Dendrobium, hitting it numerous times but failing to cause any notable damage in their attempts. Five minutes further saw all the modular weapons on the Dendrobium used to the effect of all the fighters destroyed and both Leopard units crippled beyond usability. With the forces taken down, the Dendrobium turned his guns on the renegade pirate Jumpship and proceeded to literally cleave the ship in half using the anti-ship beam sabers carried on his unit. Those pirates that did not accept the term of bond from the Mobile Armor pilot were executed as per Magi regulations on piracy.

**Variants:**

Many variants of the Dendrobium have come about over the years, though none of them were officially adopted due to one of two critical design flaws: the mass of the ship increased to the point that it was easily targeted by the enemy naval forces it was designed to counter, or the rebuild sacrificed spped or firepower to far too large an extent. In very few cases were the defensive measures of the Dendrobium upgrades enough to counter these increased risks. To date, the original Dendrobium is used pretty much in its standard configuration by the Magi still, because nobody has produced a meaningful upgrade that did not sacrifice too much speed, armor, or firepower to get it, or did not become severely vulnerable to Warship fire.

At the time of this briefing, a standing challenge exists between various aerospace firms with a bounty to the firm that can produce a meaningful upgrade to the Dendrobium, though as in years prior the results do not look promising.

**Notable Vessels & Crews:**

Galen Wiltz (Machine: Jukebox)  
Though it is often considered that the Magi Tradition of Music was began by an officer of Infantry long before the Star Empire Wars, it was Galen Wiltz that is credited for making it a mainstay of naval engagements during the heady days of the Star Empire Wars. Prior to his non-standard modifications to his Stamen, music for the space forces was more often than not a personal preference thing, and risky at that with music mods that could not be varied by radio traffic, resulting in renegade pilots, missed orders and blown opportunities. Galen was the first to set up the system that is now in use throughout the forces, where the radio can be cranked to any level in any unit but is automatically reduced to very low when legitimate radio traffic is broadcast on a separate scanned channel. In this fashion the troops can listen to their choice of 'battle music' while also hearing orders from their operations controllers. Despite this much-vaunted improvement for the naval forces, Galen himself was not seriously noteworthy as a pilot, racking up only 178 mobile forces kills and two Dropship kills during his twenty years of service.

Rita Lagera (Machine: Red Typhoon)  
As often as not called 'The Princess Of PMS' by both subordinate and foe alike, Rita earned a hellish reputation during the Calm of the Star League era by continuing her stalwart duties to the Empire during those years that everything else gave the impression of not needing to fight. Her nickname is a derivation of her actual rank, she was a 'Combat Princess' of an order of knights on a backwater alternate instance of Terra where the Magi had set up manufacturing bases in unused lands. Her first few raids on those bases were stunning successes, as the area had little security in it, but her fifth raid would be the unit's undoing as she came head to head with a mercenary Magi unit hired by one of the involved corporations from the Magi regular armed forces. Her Knights were wiped out in a matter of minutes, most killed in battle but some (including her) captured by the Bladesmen. After years of serving as Bondsmen she was released to her own devices, and immediately signed up to join the Empire's forces, again serving as the approximation of a Knight—a Gundam pilot. Within years she had been promoted up to command rank and assigned to a patrol fleet that always seemed to find battle against anything from Pirates to radicals to the Negaverse, whom had not given up their blood feud with the Magi. Though her kill record exceeded five digits, she is only known to have received one award for her actions, that being the Order of the Star for intercepting Pirates that were attempting to destroy civilian colonies.

Zeia Elnse (Shadow Queen Zeia) (Machine: Dark Fury)  
Zeia Elnse, an Executor of the Star League, actually got her start during the Quarter War as part of the Dark Moon Naval Forces. An exemplary Gundam pilot of her own right, she was less than feared by the Magi over the years because of the Dark Moon's unwillingness to commit to any decent battle...or a decent political stance on the war at the time. That reputation changed abruptly when her small strike team was able to secure a transport Jumpship hauling disassembled Dendrobium units to remote locations for assembly and use. With the parts necessary to assemble over 400 Dendrobium units, she retreated to well inside the Dark Moon borders and began outfitting a unit with the much-feared Mobile Platform. Nothing was heard from her for almost a decade, until a floatilla of heavily-modified Nightlord battleships showed up in Negaverse space, equipped with Dendrobium armors and definitely not under Magi banner. For years thereafter, her fleet continued to ravage the Negaverse and Illyaris naval supply lines as basically an autonomous assault force of the Dark Moon, with each battle growing in fame and prestige...and a form of power quite unexpected even to her: her Psionic and Newtype talents simply kept increasing with each battle. Her fame continued building well after the Quarter War as she continued operating, suffering the curse of Transcendence and never growing older, until the war ended with the formation of the Second Star League and was followed by her eventual indoctrination into the ranks of the Executors. Though she now operates as a stealth Executor and outright spy in many cases, it is rumored that her fleet still exists and is staffed by some of the most elite of Dark Moon pilots available, including her old Dendrobium which she still uses on occasions where firepower is more required than stealth.

Kika (Machine: Angel One)  
Little is properly understood of Kika, even by her close friends Mina and Wendy Barus. She was a maverick Dendrobium pilot in a rote defensive armor unit for almost a decade, one of the best of the best in the backwater units in her area, until she was recalled to the Naval Academy of Strana Mechty to become an instructor. She taught for years, honing her own skills as well as turning out razor-sharp recruits into the forces, until her course was crossed by an enigma named Gerald Lightbringer. She was transferred away from the academy on his orders and assigned to the defensive armor compliment of the Warship Mjolnr, which seemed a dead-end career move until the ship and fleet in question was assigned a real renegade for a Star Admiral by the name of Wayne Centara. It was widely assumed that it would be Kika who ended up breaking her own trainees in years to come in battles to destroy the influence of the Admiralty, though a battle against unknown Mobile Doll forces caused the Mjolnr to jump and has not been seen since. Her fate is currently listed as the rest of the compliment of the Mjolnr: MIA, presumed destroyed, though her best recruits believe to a man that Kika and her comrades are not dead, just stranded who-knows-where.

**Deployment**

The Dendrobium is deployed both defensively and offensively by the Magi, and for practically the same reason in both cases: it provides a lot of heavy-hitting mobile firepower that is hard to match for any classification of target.

In an offensive role, the Dendrobium is typically used as the spearhead of a naval breakthrough, where it can take out medium and heavy assets, impede or disable enemy mobile forces, and harass larger enemy ships while heavier Magi assets close up to finish the job with the serious firepower. In this fashion the Dendrobium, in small units of three to five Armors per unit, can eliminate larger formations of enemy fighters and mobile suits with micromissile pods, damage or destroy transport or assault Dropships, and even damage or destroy escort monitors or smaller Warships with concentrated firepower.

Defensively, the Dendrobium provides an excellent interceptor capability. The speed with which Dendrobium units can respond to an attack has literally shattered naval assault actions because the Dendrobium units hit the enemy fleet before they finished forming up and deploying fighters. There have even been reported cases where Dendrobium units stationed at Waypoint Recharge Stations or FireStar Space Defense Stations had launched in response to the arrival of a hostile enemy Warship and hit the enemy so fast they had not recovered from the Jump before their ship was destroyed in combat. It is because of these tactics that enemy fleets are leery of using standard jump points to assault Magi industrial worlds where they suspect the Magi use FireStar or Waypoint stations at the Zenith and Nadir points; they instead will use Pirate points inside the system to conduct the assault, which carries a far greater risk of the fleet not surviving the jump and also puts them a lot closer to the Magi garrisons and/or colony clusters, both of which are typically heavily garrisoned and patrolled.

As with the Neue Ziel, the Dendrobium can be shoehorned into a Mobile Armor Class Five bay (500 tons), though is best suited to residence in a Class Six bay (600 tons). Due to the almost-completely Gundanium construction of the Dendrobium, it cannot take advantage of a magnetic catapult system, but can use a standard steam or hydraulic catapult.

**BATTLETECH SPECIAL RULES**:

The Dendrobium is classified as an Aerodyne Dropship for movement and combat rules. For transport purposes, a Dendrobium may be issued cargo space to stow or may be issued cubicles as per fighters and 'Mechs, though the minimum size of a cubicle assigned must be 500 tons per Dendrobium, subject to the restriction that the armor must be undocked from the ship for repairs if using a cubicle that small. If issued a 600-ton Ccubicle or larger, the armor may be launched, docked and repaired normally as per normal fighter launching, recovery and repair.

The I-Field Generator blocks fifty capital-scale points of damage from Beam Weapons, Buster Weapons and Mega Particle Weapons (Gundam universe) and Particle Cannons (Battletech Universe). It has no effect on Lasers, Positron Cannons, Flamers, or any physical ordinance weapons (missiles, rail guns, Autocannons, machine guns, etc). The Dendrobium only carries one of these generators, unlike the Neue Ziel which carries four smaller generators. If this damage level is exceeded, any successive damage to the Dendrobium from these types of weapons hits the unit at standard effects. Additionally, for every fifty capital-scale damage inflicted on the Dendrobium, the generator is discharged in that turn, and is not active in the following turn while it recharges. The generator will recharge in the turn after it was discharged, and will be active again two turns after it were initially discharged. So, if the generator is discharged in one turn, the following (second) turn the Dendrobium has no defense against incoming beam or particle weapons. On the third turn this defense is active again.

Note that the Dendrobium uses a completely Gundanium construction as manufactured by the Magi, which adds a nice chunk to its price tag. Gundanium armor is considered the equivalent of Hardened armor as per Battletech Maximum Tech rules, without any movement or piloting penalties. Therefore, all damage applied to the Dendrobium is halved (round up on fractions), and damage applied to a Dendrobium from energy weapons is NOT doubled as it would be against standard Mobile Suits.

The Dendrobium is a space-use mobile armor. Despite being listed as Dropship class Aerodyne, it is completely incapable of atmospheric flight and if one enters the atmospheric interface it is considered to have burned up and is listed as destroyed. In such cases, if a Dendrobium is going to enter the atmosphere, the Stamen can eject from the Orchis frame and attempt to enter the atmosphere as per Gundam Atmospheric Entry rules or Gundam Hot-Drop Rules (which will be covered under another primer). So long as the Stamen has not itself been damaged and the pilot is competent, he or she should make it to the ground safely.

**CUSTOM WEAPONS SPECIFICATIONS**:

Mega Beam Cannon: Considered standard laser, 5 tons, 25 heat, Maximum AT2 range of long. Attack value of 50 points standard damage. BV 1525, cost 2.5 million C-bills. This weapon cannot be mounted on any craft less than 150 tons, due to the power requirements of recharging it.

Beam Saber Claw: Considered standard laser, 3 tons, 10 heat, Maximum AT2 range of point defense. Attack value of 100 points standard damage. BV 105, cost 3.5 million C-bills. This weapon cannot be mounted on any craft less than 150 tons, due to the power requirements of recharging it. This weapon can only be used against targets in the same hex as the firing craft.

I-Field Generator: Considered point defense weapon, 4 tons, 0 heat, Maximum AT2 range of point defense. Attack value of 500 points standard defense against Mega Particle Weapons, Buster Weapons, PPCs. BV 25, cost 4 million C-bills. This weapon cannot be mounted on any craft less than 300 tons, due to the power requirements of charging and running it. This weapon will defend only the equipped craft, it does not have the range to defend any units in the vicinity.

Large Missile Pod: Considered standard Rocket Launcher, 2 tons, 3 heat, Maximum AT2 range of Extreme. Attack value of 25 points standard damage per missile, three missiles per pod. BV 518, cost 450,000 C-bills. This pod can be carried by fighters as per carrying a bomb load, though it can only be used in space.

Micromissile Pod: Considered standard Rocket Launcher, 2 tons, 5 heat, maximum AT2 Range of Medium. Attack Value of 1 standard damage per missile, 108 missiles per pod. Micromissile pods have a +2 bonus to hit when fired and are considered to have an Artemis IV system for determining how many missiles hit. Battle Value of 294 per pod, cost is 500,000 C-bills per pod. This pod can be carried by fighters as per bomb loads, but cannot be used in atmosphere. It is a space-use weapon only.

Chain Mine Pod: Considered Standard Rocket Launcher, 2 tons, 5 heat, maximum AT2 range of Short. When fired, the controlling player designates the targeted hex of the weapon, rolls 1d6 and divides the result by two, rounding fractions up. This result gives the player the maximum amount of enemy units in the targeted hex that will take damage from this weapon. If the die result exceeds the amount of enemies in the hex, the player may opt for extra hits on an already-targeted unit. The targeted units each receive two hits of 20 capital-scale damage (for units above 500 tons) or two hits of 150 standard-scale damage (for units under 500 tons) from this weapon. BV of 1060 per pod, 650,000 C-bills cost per pod. Note that this pod can be carried by fighters and used in the same fashion, but cannot be used in atmosphere. This is a space-use only weapon.

Modular Weapons Pods: All weapons carried in the weapons pods are one-shot weapons, and though can be reloaded they cannot be used more than once between reloads. The pod contains ten crits per side, twenty total crits per system, and can carry any combination of the pods listed above or weapons for the Stamen. Balancing the load between sides is not necessary.

* * *

**Class/Model/Name**: Gundam Dendrobium Orchis RX-78GP03

**Mass: **490 tons

Equipment: (Mass)

**Power Plant: **Standard (239.50)

**Structural Integrity: **16 (39.20)

**Safe Thrust: **8

**Maximum Thrust: **12

**Heat Sinks: **25 Double (13.00)

**Fuel & Fuel Pumps: **40.00

**Bridge & Controls: **4.00

**Food & Water: **(200 days supply) (1.00)

**Armor Factor: **1,500 *Gundanium* (C) (72.00)

* * *

Armor Value **(Standard Scale)**

**Fore: **500

**Left / Right Sides: **375 / 375

**Aft: **250

* * *

Equipment & Options:

**Crew and Passengers: **1 Officers (1 minimum) (0.00)

* * *

Weapons & Equipment:  
Loc, SRV, MRV, LRV, ERV  
Heat, Mass

1 Mega Beam Cannon (C)*  
Nose, 5(50), 5(50), 5(50), --  
25, 5.00

1 I-Field Generator (C)*  
Nose, --, --, --, --,  
0, 2.00

2 Beam Saber Claw (C)*  
Nose, --, --, --, --,  
20, 6.00

3 Large Missile Pod (C)*  
18, 12.00  
3 Micromissile Pod (C)*  
30, 12.00  
2 Chain Mine Pod (C)*  
20, 8.00  
1 Folding Bazooka Pod (C)*  
0, 2.00  
1 Folding Bazooka Pod (C)*  
0, 2.00  
L/RW, 68(680), 28(280), 8(75), 8(75)

1 Lot Spare Parts (3.06%)

15.00

**TOTALS:**

45

**483.70**

**Tons Left:**

6.30

* * *

Calculated Factors:

**Total Cost:**

999,290,160 C-Bills

**Battle Value:**

19,012

**Cost per BV:**

52,561.02

**Weapon Value:**

15,670 (Ratio = .82)

**Damage Factors:**

SRDmg = 1,575; MRDmg = 488; LRDmg = 90; ERDmg = 1

**Maintenance Point Value:**

MPV = 15,000 (4,032 Structure, 2,445 Life Support, 8,523 Weapons)

**Support Points:**

SP = 3,150 (21% of MPV)

**BattleForce2:**

**MP:** 8N, **Armor/Structure:** 25 / 25

**Damage PB/M/L:** 5/5/5, **Overheat:** 0

**Class:** DS, **Point Value:** 190


	6. Ghosts of Mendel, Ghosts of Space

(Jokers Wild, Set 1, Chapter 6: Ghosts of Mendel, Ghosts of Space)

"Man, they weren't kidding about this stuff," Gundam Pilot Keith half-moans as he looks around the area he was ordered to 'clear'.

"This is one you can definitely file under the heading of 'no shit sensei' in the 'cold hard reality' section of our ME FR (1) manual," one of the Marines he was assigned to assist notes.

The shooting outside had not even drawn the ire of the few remaining Marines and one Gundam inside Mendel itself. The Star Admiral's orders had been rather clear: they were to clean up the colony for possible use as a home base UFN, or if the _Mjolnr_ was wiped out in battle they were to go to ground and act as if they had never even heard of the Magi until they were contacted by someone in the know. Nobody expected the locals to have the necessary firepower to take out the _Mjolnr_, so the urgency of clearing roads and obstructions for the incoming personnel was quite manifest.

"No doubt," Keith notes. Moving vehicles out of the middle of the road was noting major for a Dendrobium Stamen Gundam, but this...was something else to the pilot.

"Struck down in the middle of their daily routines, I'd say," Marine Karen notes. "Probably never even knew what hit them, like a neutron bomb or something."

"X-Ray overexposure. They had several minutes to finish dying, at the least," Marine Point Commander Elisa notes. "And that would not have been a pleasant way to die, far as I have read about such matters."

"I absolutely needed to know that," Keith replies sarcastically as his Gundam looks around the area of the water fountain and commerce park. There were a lot of dead bodies in the area, the highest concentrations nearby a hospital which may have been treating the victims of the original attack.

"Think it was a surprise incident? Like they did not know they were going to get a dose of X-Rays?" another Marine in the star asks.

"Could be," the Star Commander notes. "All right, big guy, you deal with the cars, we'll do the bodies," since there were multiple cars in the area that had wrecked, likely as the drivers started having severe radiation problems from the X-ray overdose. The body of the typical car was not of the right material to slow down radiation significantly, which would cause these kinds of problems and problems similar to what was elsewhere around the colony.

"Got it," Keith replies as he moves to the nearest of the cars while stepping over about six bodies in the process. The Marines had fanned out throughout the commerce park and were taking stock of how they wanted to arrange the bodies for storage now and disposal later.

The first car Keith pulled from a low-rise commercial building's wall was a minivan, and as he pulled it clear of the wall the driver fell out of the broken front window, what was left of her form and clothing he could tell was female. Still he continued and set the minivan on a side road, out of the way of the normal flow of traffic. Seeing the body fall out of the car and land extremely rigidly served to do naught but turn his guts at the sight, much less at the sight of two children inside the busted rear window that suffered the same fate, likely.

"I know it's a cop-out in such a circumstance, but you guys mind if I turn on some music and crank it? Something to get my mind off the dead."

"It would be welcome," the Star Commander declares. "Anything but Nightwish. I'm getting sick of Nightwish."

"C'mon, boss-man, it is tradition," another of the Marines says, to the sound of multiple raspberries from the other Marines.

"No, I never have been a Nightwish fan, but I can listen to them. I prefer same subclass, European Metal, just different bands," Keith assures them, to the sound of raspberries from those that were Nightwish fans. "Listen before you diss, kiddies," he declares as he finishes setting up the commands on his radio panel.

The commerce park echoed to the haunting opening stanza: "_Burning fires, burning lives on the long distant roads, through the lost mountains endless so far away from home_," as the song _Soldiers of the Wasteland_ began the Marine introduction to the band Dragon Force.

Across the nine minutes of the song, much was accomplished. The Marines had managed to stack most of the deceased and collect their identification for cataloging in that time period, as Keith had removed all of the vehicles from the commerce park area and stacked them down the side roads. Only one car alarm was set off, though in five minutes it died out due to a mostly-discharged battery. Most of Keith's effort was in helping the Marines transport the deceased to where the bodies were being stacked, since the amount and size of vehicles to be moved was actually miniscule in the end (most were already out of the way or not parked in a wall).

"You know, that was a helluva good song," the first and loudest of the anti-'other song' protestors notes. "You got anything with more of an edge, though?"

"Oh, yes," Keith replies. "I got one that will make you Marines feel all warm and fuzzy. This is _Primo Victoria_, by Sabaton." Keith aborts the coming selection, switching over directly to the song in question:

"_Through the Gates of Hell, _

_As we make our way to Heaven, _

_Through the Nazi Lines_

_Primo Victoria_!"

In this he got more than a few cheers from the Marines, as all of them recognized what the song truly represented: the invasion of Normandy, June 6, 1944 AD. Normandy was often used as a case study as well as training for the Marines in the art of storming hostile shorelines, which still counted as a valid and necessary skillset for Magi Armored Marines.

"That...that is inspirational," Marine Officer Karen declares as the song ends.

"You know, there is some talk about since we're going to be here for a while, possibly stranded here forever, that we start a new set of traditions and honors," the Star Commander of Marines notes. "That band name, Sabaton? They have some good ones for mobile forces as well as we lowly Marines?" Of which calling Marines 'lowly' itself was a joke of triple meaning, but Keith ignored the implicit challenge within.

"Well, we can also think beyond just Sabaton, or even beyond metal in general. Remember, there is some hard trance that qualifies as harder than Metal, kiddies," he muses over the sound of a raspberry from someone on the radio channel.

"And how far are you willing to think outside that cockpit?" A lady Marines notes.

"Yeah, like, why don't you come down here and show us how 'useful' you are without sixty tons of target practice to hang in," and the comment drew a stifled groan from another of the ladies on the channel. Keith knew that Marines also had a rather unfair reputation for being more perverted than most of the Magi armored forces, with the possible exception of their sister service of the Armored Infantry.

"Can we save any such discussions for after our order package is completed? Not that I am dodging what might be a nookie call, but I think I'll just have to—SHIT!" Keith shouts the last as he recognizes the forms of two Mobile Suits closing on his location. "Unidentified Mobile Suits in the colony!"

"Tango Call!" one of the Marine Snipers shouts. "Two Mobile Suits, minimum one possible both Gundams! Incoming our location!"

"Oh shit," Keith says, realizing he was practically defensive (2) right now, caught out in the open with only a beam rifle to his name, no disposable explosives and not even the folding shield to his name. "Guys, I'm going to have to cover and fight defensive, you'd best get indoors," he orders as he closes up on a ten-story-tall commercial building, covering behind it against possible enemy fire to come his way.

"Marines, fort in NOW!" the Star Commander orders, which was the simplest of commands for Marines and Armored Infantry alike. They immediately moved to the building they had already cleared and set up as a duty barracks, spreading out on several levels of the building as they hunkered down to fight a possible urban battle with these enemy machines.

"Have they seen you?" one of the Marines asks on Keith's frequency.

"Likely," Keith replies before a pair of missiles strikes the side of the building nearby where his Gundam was standing. "Make that confirmed, they know I am here. Returning fire at this time," he says as he aims around the corner with the beam rifle, sighting up and firing on the two clearly hostile machines through the onboard sight camera. Both shots missed, but it did get them to break up and stop their direct charge. "They split up, people, eyes out and be ready for anything,"

"You suck them into the commerce park, we'll ram-fuck them and send the remains back in pieces," the Star Commander assures Keith.

"May not be too hard to get them here, but surviving it might be," Keith notes drolly. The enemy should be coming around the corner...

-x-

The maroon beam rifle shots from the unknown machine were themselves a bit sinister to Rau, but being a Coordinator and a veteran of some of the hardest fighting of the war, the unexpected was as much his ally as it was his enemy. The two shots had been dead on, the second even compensated for his movement to dodge the first, though the travel time of the beam gave him just barely enough time to dodge the first and block the second with his shield. The translated impact as the magnetic plates on the shield redirected the energy of the beam was hellish, far more than he expected from a simple MS-carried Beam Rifle, which made the nature of this contact immediately suspect.

"Yzak, loop wide right and fire from a distance, don't get too close. We don't know what this machine is capable of, don't take chances."

"Yes, sir," Yzak replies immediately as he widens his approach arc so he would be about 800 meters away from the target when he got a clear shot at it.

The battle came to a head in the space of two seconds, hardly enough for Creuset to completely realize what happened until after the shooting was over. As he got a clear sight on the right side of the enemy machine so had Yzak, and both fired just as the enemy had fired into Creuset's new GuAIZ. The two emerald beams struck, though Creuset noticed something really peculiar: the armor that Yzak's beam struck, the main chest armor, was scorched visibly but the beam did not penetrate completely. The beam Creuset fired actually punched through the left shoulder of the enemy machine and inside as the maroon beam struck off-center and left of the GuAIZ and completely sheared the left arm off at the shoulder. The machine collapsed straight down and back, something critical obviously destroyed by Creuset's shot, but the fact that so much of his machine had been damaged so effortlessly made this a very powerful foe indeed.

"Yzak, are you all right?" Creuset asks as the adrenaline takes its toll on his body. He could feel that shortly he would need to return to the ship to take another stabilizer, but for now he should be able to continue.

"What kind of Earth Alliance machine is this?" Yzak asks by way of reply as he lands. The pilot had not opened the cockpit up, so he was still aiming his beam rifle at the machine just in case the enemy was playing dead.

"Whatever it is, it definitely has more striking power than the Earth Alliance _Drake_-class ships. One shot of that beam rifle tore the left shoulder off my machine, but it is fallible."

"Yeah, well, my beam shot didn't bust through the armor on this thing," Yzak indicates where his beam scorched but did not penetrate his armor.

"Maybe we should take this thing back to the ship and break it down, study it as we have your machine," Creuset muses, knowing that the side with the overwhelming power advantage would try to annihilate the other and thereby garner the mass destruction he craved from this war.

"Sure—huh?" Yzak grumbles as his proximity sensors trip, making noise as if there was Infantry in the area. "What the hell?" He asks as the Gundam looks down and left, seeing something extremely unexpected as a—something—bounces out of one of the buildings from the third floor and down to the ground, then when it lands it jets back up to chest-level on his Gundam, apparently aiming to grapple with his machine! "What kind of—holy shit!" Yzak shouts as he hauls back on his Gundam, away from their line of advance as he sees what was unmistakably a miniature beam saber light off in one of their hands. He dodged two of them and managed to swat a third with his shield, but at least ten had already latched onto his machine as his various exterior sensors made note of.

Creuset watched on in horror as one of the enemy Infantry—whatever the hell they really were—latched onto Yzak's Gundam and placed grenades in vulnerable points, used beam sabers to cut into visible thin armor points, even fired what looked like a cannon into the Shiva railgun at point-blank range, causing it to start smoking immediately. "Yzak, thrust clear!" Creuset orders, not realizing that there were more of them where the first fifteen came from...

His first introduction to them was as one roundhouse kicked with a spiked greave into the left eye of his GuAIZ, then the sight of a beam saber as it lit off and drove deep into the right, practically destroying his main camera in less than two seconds. Moments later his machine was driven forward and down to both knees as a powerful explosion just above the center of gravity ripped apart his main propellant tank, though safety systems built into it prevented the explosion from going any farther into the machine. Sensors began registering even more damage to his machine on the legs, the back, the right arm, and he knew he had to get clear immediately or his machine would be laid out next to the one he just killed off. "Yzak, get clear! Now! Abort and return to the ship!" Creuset shouts as he jams his jets to the max, switching his view screens over to the output from his beam rifle, which was his only working view system at the time. He could feel his machine gain speed as the enemy units dropped off, apparently not willing to go along for the ride wherever Creuset was going.

"Holy shit, sir, what were those things? Miniature tanks on legs? I shot one of them several times with my vulcans and it got right back up!"

"I don't think I want to know what those things are," Creuset replies deadpan.

"Oh, crap, we've got more Mobile Suits coming in...huh? DAMNIT! It's the Strike and the Buster!"

"You're it, Yzak, my machine is too badly damaged to assist you. I'm retreating now, don't hold too long."

"Roger that, Commander," Yzak says as he changes course to intercept the two other G-Weapons.

"Oh, what the hell is this, they're retreating?" Someone asks on an open channel, which Creuset's radio was set to scan all frequencies used for normal military and civilian apps. "Come back here you pansies!"

"Can't handle a few teeny weenie Marines from inside those big strong Mobile Suits, can you?" A lady with a rather alluring voice asks immediately thereafter.

"Pussies!" someone shouts immediately thereafter. Creuset could not readily tell if it was male or female, but he was leaning toward female.

"Run hard, run fast, for next time it's your asses on the barbecue spit, boys!" an older lady shouts.

"Marines got some! UURRRRAAAAAHHHH!"

"Who's the man?" a guy that sounded about large enough to break Creuset in half by hand shouts.

"Yzak, it's all up to you now, I'm at the airlock out," Creuset declares.

"Engaging now, sir, then I'm gonna mop the floor with those Marines," he declares coldly.

-x-

Yzak was spitting fury already, and now he had complete sacrilege in his gunsights, making his mood even worse.

First off, these Marines, whatever the hell they really were, had just torn strips out of his Duel and came real close to destroying Creuset's new GuAIZ in less than fifteen seconds actual combat. To make things worse, they were now openly taunting ZAFT special forces as if they had done so with no challenge or real threat to themselves, and the longer the Duel lingered the more acidic their taunting became. Never mind that Creuset had brought down their one machine.

And then there was the two MS in front of him, the cursed Strike that had killed Nicol and the Buster, which if it was here under Earth Alliance control meant that Dearka was now dead, likely killed in that damned sacrificial attack on JOSH-A. Yzak could feel his blood boiling as he centered the crosshairs for his beam rifle on the Strike and fired. Never once had he aimed more deliberately than this one stroke, which genuinely surprised him as the Strike dodged around most of the shot but not completely, the hit against the upper left chest as it returned the favor with a single shot of the hyper impulse cannon it carried. Yzak was able to dodge most of that shot, the remainder clipped the shield at a strange angle and was deflected off into the ground.

Yzak continued with the pressure, firing four more shots of beam rifle as he continued to close, hoping to disable the Strike and go in close on the Natural bastard that was piloting Dearka's machine. Three of the beams missed the Strike, the fourth hit it and knocked the main battery out of service, the machine crashing face-first into a clear section on the ground and rolling to face-up positioning. That left just the Buster. "You damned Natural scum, using Dearka's machine like that!" The two beams fired at it missed completely, the pilot deft enough to clear around them. "I'll send you to hell for this insult!"

The beam rifle went to the hip and a drawn beam saber went in close with two deliberately-fatal strokes; Yzak had no intention of letting this 'Natural scum' walk away alive. Strangely enough, again the Buster danced around the two swings easily, Yzak did not get even a measure of satisfaction from the attack. The remaining missiles in his pod loosed, Yzak watched as the Buster shunted aside a Shiva slug, then rather surprisingly used its Gun Launcher to intercept the missiles. One shot, all three destroyed in mid-flight. No doubt remained, this was a good Earth Alliance pilot.

"Yzak!"

The voice that came over the ZAFT-encrypted radio band could not be anyone but Dearka, which made the reality of his dodging clear-cut. Yzak maintained no illusions, the Buster may have been classified as a heavy support MS but in Dearka's hands it could do close-quarters just as easily. The stunning turn of the affair did naught but stop Yzak's attack plan in its tracks; if it really was Dearka, he was not going to shoot, but...

"Dearka? Is it..really you in there?" Yzak asks back on the same frequency.

The face that came up on the communications window was in fact Dearka, but quite a bit more haggard, less arrogant than he had been before that abortive battle in the south Pacific. "Yeah. It's me, Yzak."

"What the hell?" Yzak immediately shouts now that he was assured that it was indeed Dearka on the other side of the communications line. "I mean, I'm really glad you're alive and all, but if this is what I think it is, I can't forgive you for siding with the Naturals!"

"Let's lower our weapons and talk, Yzak. This is not what you think it is," Dearka replies immediately.

"It damn well better not be," Yzak says as he thrusts the Duel down to make a landing. The Buster followed suit and landed just after the Duel touched the ground. As the cockpit of the Buster opened up, Yzak drew his nine-millimeter sidearm and drew the slide back, chambering a round. Yzak preferred the heavier round in the ZAFT survival pistol, but now was not the time to go hunting around his survival kit for a weapon he had no guarantee of finding regardless. After Dearka was halfway down the pilot's line, Yzak pulled the handle to open his cockpit and began his own descent.

It was pure irony that they landed nearby to the Strike that Yzak had just shot down; in fact, as the pilot climbed out of the cockpit, Yzak realized he was literally close enough for a pistol shot at the pilot, though it was Dearka he was after, not the pilot of the Strike (not yet, at least). As he touched the ground, Yzak immediately stepped forward a measured distance, close enough that he could talk in a civil tone to Dearka, not close enough that Dearka was a physical threat to him. "Yzak," Dearka begins, then trails off.

The pistol came up and centered on Dearka's head almost of its own volition, as Yzak was running on fury and reaction. On no other day would he be willing to take aim at Dearka, but this...this was too much. "Did you believe I would be naive enough to believe the words of an enemy?"

Dearka twitches, apparently miffed that Yzak now considers himself an enemy. "I don't remember ever deciding to become your enemy, Yzak," he replies in a level voice after a few moments.

"And you're a traitor!" Yzak continues, unfazed by the prior comment from Dearka. Still the pistil did not flinch from its aimpoint, though in proper form Yzak had his finger out of the trigger guard and on the side of the guard.

"I have not betrayed the PLANTs, either," Dearka replies with a little more gusto.

"Then why the hell are you fighting with the Strike?" Yzak asks immediately thereafter. "That thing—that pilot killed Nicol! I can't forgive him!"

"I know that, damnit! Don't remind me!" Dearka shouts back, which caused Yzak to flinch his aimpoint down, hearing something more of the usual Dearka. "It's just...I can't blindly follow military orders when it seems all we're doing is trying to annihilate every last Natural!"

It was Yzak that found himself shocked by such a thought, and his aimpoint slid off Dearka's body and to the left, almost to the foot of the Buster as he realized the reality of what Dearka had said. It really did seem to Yzak that ZAFT was intending that, when someone actually put words to what was happening. Strange, that, you could spend years doing something and never see it for what it was...

And then there was the realization of what Yzak had forgotten: "Oh, shit," he mutters when his eye catches peripheral movement on top of the hip armor plate of the Strike. As he cautiously turns his head to look at it directly, never moving his pistol any closer to or farther from Dearka, he found himself staring down the bore of a weapon so large that he could literally see partway down the smoothbore barrel from the twenty meters separating the Marine and himself.

More Marines had arrived at the Strike, a couple moving to assist the Strike pilot out of the cockpit and to waiting medical personnel. Each, excepting the obvious Sniper with the several-meter-long rifle aimed right at him, carried a large assault rifle and a large tower shield similar to the old Roman Legion tower shields, and their armor looked easily heavy enough to take hits from Mobile Suit weapons and keep on going.

Two of the Marines dropped off the near side of the Strike with quick bursts of thruster, then walk the remaining distance to where they were about five meters away from both pilots. The lead of the two looks first to Dearka, then to the rather stunned Yzak, then back to Dearka. "Is this going to be a problem, Pilot Elsman?" the lady asks, a telling request as Yzak could have sworn whoever was in that armor could not have been older than he was.

"No, I'll handle it," Dearka replies. "An old friend of mine," Dearka adds, apparently needing to clarify the matter.

The Marine in question looks back to Yzak, then shrugs after a moment, a gesture amplified by the armor. "Very well, radio if you need anything." The two Marines turn around and begin walking back to the Strike, no longer concerned with Yzak, as the Sniper raises the rifle he or she was aiming at him. "Marines, my point secure the Strike, remainder return to operations. Radio, call for salvage crews and medical evac for Commander La Flaga. Move it up!"

"Aff, ma'am!" Another of the Marines shouts audibly.

"Those...that...eeep," Yzak mutters.

"Oh, I get it now," Dearka says, looking up the height of the Duel. "You had a rough encounter with the Marines before we came along," he says. "They weren't joking when they claimed they could 'disassemble' a Mobile Suit in seconds, looks like they tried real hard on yours to prove it."

"You...know those midget humanoid tanks? What the fuck is going on here?"

"A lot, Yzak, a lot," Dearka replies. "They are...a long story. A real long story. Just pray you don't have to fight them directly," Dearka cautions. "I'm leaving, Yzak. Good bye."

Yzak did not try to stop him as he moved to the pilot's evac line and took it back up to the cockpit of the Buster. As the Buster lifted off, Yzak finally lowered his pistol, locked the hammer safety, and holstered it. Seconds later he was climbing back into the command chair inside the Duel. "This is Duel, I am returning to ship."

There was no response. It took him a few to realize that he was still inside the colony and that what he had to say on the radio did not make it outside.

-x-

"_Absinthe_ to Fleet Command, we are showing unusual possible activity on the far side harbor of Mendel. Moving now to verify, request backup at this time," Captain Holmes requests on the Fleet C3. The reason for the request was dead simple: the Flame Eater escort Destroyer he commanded had no fighters at all carried in the Monitor. The _Absinthe_ itself existed for nothing but gun action.

"Holmes, Centara. I have just the man for the job. Gerald Lightbringer will be joining you in the target area. You are weapons free at this time, Captain," Wayne replies immediately. "Gerald, you copy my last?" he asks a moment thereafter.

"Aff, Star Admiral. If there is any more pukes hangin' around, I'll shake 'em up and send 'em home crying." Gerald changes course for the rear of Mendel and immediately begins a constant burn to get there in a timely fashion.

Given where he was after depositing the three Earth Alliance Gundams for the pilots to be extracted (likely by some pissed off Marines) and the techs to rack and begin analysis on the machines, getting to the rear of Mendel took thirty seconds. The _Absinthe_ was just pulling even with the rear harbor as Gerald circled around the corner. What he found he definitely did not like. "Command, Angel Zero, I show enemy Monitors launching Mobile Suits at this time, sixteen confirmed launched, one heavily damaged and retreating from the colony. Three monitors in the area. I will be engaging momentarily," he says as he drives his throttle forward, bringing the machine up to speed immediately.

The retreating white-colored machine was nearest, and appeared to still have something approaching armaments available, so Gerald started off with a beam as it began to rotate on him. The first shot missed, which immediately revealed a critical fact to Gerald: _So, you are a Newtype as well as a fly in the ointment_, Gerald notes telepathically to stir the opponent up. He got what he asked for, a pair of beams that went no farther than the I-Field on his armor.

The first thing that Gerald noticed was that the machine already looked chewed up and showed evidence of having lost its arm courtesy of a Gundam's beam rifle. Another beam hammered into the I-Field and went no farther once more, giving Gerald a bit of a laughing fit. _What manner of demons are you_? Gerald hears back on the telepathic plane, and where it came from was grossly evident: the enemy machine he was targeting.

_We are the ghosts of wars unimaginable in the average human heart, come unto this dimension to deliver a lesson on aggro control, boy_, Gerald replies as he finishes closing with the enemy machine. At point-blank range and with a severely damaged machine, there was no dodging the volley of 105mm autocannon from the Neue Ziel. The several dozen armor-piercing slugs hammer into what remained of his machine, tearing both legs off, striking the chest in several places, and completely obliterating the head. _You are not even worthy of a line on my codex, much less the ammo to kill you off. Suffer well, boy, and watch as we unleash on your fleet_.

Tracers from the _Absinthe_ passed by his armor, headed for the enemy warships, and in all fairness to Captain Holmes there was little expectation of hitting in the first salvo. Even still, two of the five volleys struck home on the leftmost ship as it in turn fired on Gerald in following of one of Murphy's Laws, being that 'density of fire increases proportionally to the curiousness of a target'. Gerald had to dodge around a pair of rail gun slugs, which was not a simple task in a just-under-500-tons Mobile Armor, but far from impossible either. Of the capital beams, one was destined to miss, the other he took the hit in the I-Fields, making them less of a threat than he initially assumed. After he stopped maneuvering around beams, he could tell that the two barks of 35cm Naval Guns from the _Absinthe_ had torn massive rents in the ship already, and that further abuse would be catastrophic to it.

"_Absinthe_, Angel Zero, split your fire between the port-side and center ships. We'll leave the one on the right to evacuate the area."

"We leave survivors?" Captain Holes asks, quite a bit shocked by the change in intent.

"Aff," Gerald replies immediately. "We make it clear that fighting us is a losing proposition, but we don't kill them all or the message doesn't quite get across," he explains judiciously as one of the beam cannons from the enemy warships strikes his I-field. "Oh, these things are getting a bit risky now," he says facetiously.

"I'll take the center one down, Angel Zero. You hammer the left side," Anastus requests.

"Roger," Gerald says as he maneuvers hard, then hammers a set of missiles with his 105mm Autocannons to knock them out before they hit his armor. (2) "Time to put the fear of the Angels in them," he says as he absorbs a burst of low-caliber autocannon in his armor while closing up on the left Warship. He could read the name "Heusinger" off the side of the ship he was targeting. In close, he fired a full frontal with all of his missile launchers, his autocannons, the mega beam cannon, and the six beam guns that truly made his Armor a warship buster. At such close range there was no dodging his attacks, especially for a large Warship; the beams slammed the starboard facing of the ship, followed shortly by the missiles and autocannon, each attack tearing massive rents in the ship's armor. "Whoa, these guys don't use beam-resistant armor, Absinthe, unload those Particle Cannons on that mid ship," Gerald orders as he continues drifting parallel to the _Heusinger_'s course but continued heading in the opposite direction and shortly to behind the ship.

"Got it," Captain Holmes replies. "Watch for crossfire," he orders before the _Absinthe_ cut loose on the enemy center ship. "Damn flies," he says after the Naval Gauss Rifles cut loose, throwing 800-kilogram slugs of metal at very high velocities toward the enemy. Gerald caught a small hint of the anti-fighter weapons on the _Absinthe_ as a group of lasers passed him, headed out in the general direction of Earth. "Angel Zero, request you focus on the enemy MS, we can handle the remainder of the ships," Captain Holmes notes before the first escape pods launch from the middle ship, which Gerald thought he saw the first letter of the name being a V.

"Roger that, _Absinthe_, I have the fly-swatter," Gerald notes. Despite having opened the distance to the ships quite a distance, Gerald found himself being pursued by at least five of the midget enemy machines, and each was firing as if their life depended on it. "So, I have scared you pussies already. Good; fear is its own weapon, now allow me to show you more of it," he declares on open channel before the two wire-guided beam claws launch from the Neue Ziel Upgrade in two different directions. The distraction of the arms going as they did gave Gerald a hellish opening as he hammered his ventral engines and catapulted up above the enemy line of advance far faster than they ever expected to see something move in space, even counting the Freedom. Above them and with the wire guided arms slewing in from two sides, the enemy was caught defensive and unable to coordinate either a shoot plan or an escape strategy, as first one MS took a pair of beam gun hits, a second a pair of large missiles that shredded it into pieces, a third was sabered in half by Gerald's beam claw, and the fourth captured and crushed by the right claw. In ten seconds, Gerald had sundered a quarter of their mobile strength.

"I've got you now, Popeye," Anastus Holmes declares as his ship closes up to what could be considered close quarters in Naval parlance. At such brutally short ranges, there was little the enemy Warships could do except hammer on the massive _Absinthe_ and hope for the best. Gerald found himself rather surprised that the Light Shell carried by the _Flame Eater_ Class was not being used, or had been blown out by enemy fire; he had known the system in question to take far more abuse than it was being subject to right now, though the sight of an enemy railgun slug bouncing off the forward faceted glacis plate and going wild was evidence enough that the shell was down. At the amazingly dwindling ranges, Anastus did exactly what Gerald expected, and what he would have done himself: an alpha strike as his ship rotated to present the starboard broadside to the enemy center and the forward arcs to the enemy left.

Gerald closed on, chased down and chopped up one of the few remaining enemy MS as the airspace around the _Absinthe_ flashed white-green from enemy missiles being intercepted by the onboard Laser AMS systems that chainsawed the enemy capital missiles without much in the way of challenge. The missiles had almost no programming to dodge enemy intercept efforts, and the Laser AMS weapons were designed mostly to shoot down portions of rapidly-moving anti-fighter missile salvos, much less single large missiles. Even an enemy MS closed too close to the Absinthe and set the AMS grid off, as the battle computer thought the hapless MS was a torpedo and opened up on it with the port-rear AMS grid. The strike of almost a hundred laser pulses in a matter of two seconds tore his Mobile Suit into pieces, made only worse by Streak SRMs locking onto the torso remnant and unleashing a volley into it. What was left of the enemy machine was definitely space debris henceforth, Gerald figured.

The bark of Naval Autocannon and Naval Gauss gave the two targeted enemy ships mere seconds to see their doom coming, of which attack was reinforced by Naval Lasers, Naval Particle Cannons, and the nominally anti-fighter ER Large Lasers that also turned out to be very effective against Warships under close-quarters circumstances. The _Heusinger_ went down first, the biting salvo of four Medium Naval Gauss and three Pontiac Naval-35 Autocannons finished what Gerald had started earlier in the battle, the solid slugs tearing deep into the ship's superstructure. The enemy powerplant gave out shortly thereafter, lending a radially-expanding fireball into the corridors of the ship vented to the outside void by the strikes of Naval Particle Cannons and Lasers. Gerald counted two escape pods from the ship, nothing more.

The _Vesalius_, a proud and elite ship Gerald could sense from their collective consciousness, was subject to the starboard broadside and forward arcs, as well as (surprisingly) the starboard aft fire groups as well. What the attack on _Vesalius_ lacked in the heavy-hitting gauss weapons it made up for with fifteen capital-scale missile weapons and Naval Autocannons, as well as using the massive groupings of the much smaller anti-fighter weapons on the starboard side of the ship. The strike from the _Vesalius_ hammered into the side of the Absinthe at grossly short ranges, but the Naval Beam Cannons were not powerful enough to even disrupt the other weapons firing against them.

Herein the Magi engineering and honed battle strategy paid off. Very little of the ordinance used on the _Vesalius_ missed, and none of the lasers or Particle Cannons missed at all. Within four seconds, tons of ballistic slug, dozens of missiles, and gigajoules of laser and particle cannon energy slammed into the ZAFT warship and immediately ground down and penetrated the armor. The difference was significant, despite the variance of ordinance used the _Vesalius_ died faster and far more spectacularly than the _Heusinger_. A Killer Whale capital missile, easily far larger and almost double more powerful than the missiles used by the ZAFT VLS systems on the _Nazca_-class, followed through a hole scorched into the inside of the ship by the NL-45 bays forward on the _Absinthe_, and detonated inside against a bulkhead halfway through the ship after blitzing its way through the 'soft' cargo in the bay it passed through, such was the Magi missile engineering that the myriad of supplies, parts and food did not set the missile off. The bulkhead in question was an expedient engineering flaw in the _Nazca_ by its engineers, the product of building efficient without any real naval combat record to draw on and realize that fuel needed to be protected far better. The ship's primary fuel bunkerage had been located with a movable partition adjacent to the main cargo bay, so if needed the ship could carry less fuel and more cargo or less cargo and more fuel, and when the missile blew against that partition it shredded the steel bulkhead into several chunks, immediately venting 3000 tons of bunker into a cargo bay set alight by the missile. The vaporized fuel was touched off by the still-burning engine of the Killer Whale, and when touched off the 80-percent full bunker exploded hellishly, the mostly-open cargo hold providing more space for the fuel to vaporize and itself blow out.

The _Vesalius_ exploded radially away from the center fuel bunker, the three main 'arms' of the ship being driven away from the center of what was left of the ship. To Gerald, there was no doubt that all hands had been killed by the blast. Just like that, almost a hundred persons were erased from Existence as their warship was converted spectacularly into space debris. At such a range, feeling their deaths by telepathic scream, the sound of a hundred voices crying out in tortured agony at once, then being silenced, was a shocking reminder of the cost of war to Gerald Lightbringer, albeit one he had inflicted more than a few times in his checkered past.

Thankfully, it was Captain Holmes that took upon himself the task of forcing the remainder of the issue as the _Absinthe_ changed orientation to vertically avoid the remains of the _Heusinger_. "Attention warship _Helderton_, this is the Captain of the Escort Destroyer _Absinthe_. Your two comrades _Heusinger_ and _Vesalius_ are gone, your Mobile Forces are obliterated. You are ordered to stand down and leave the area immediately or your ship will share their fate. Do you copy?"

"_Absinthe_, this is the _Helderton_, we acknowledge your order to stand down but cannot comply. We do not recognize you as having any authority in this area and will not take orders from pirates, regardless of how lucky you are."

"A _pirate_ has a ship four and a half times larger than your class of ship with over three hundred guns on it? What the FUCK are you smoking, and why is ZAFT not sharing it?"

"I—"

"I should erase you from the stars just to spare the next generation of humanity from your stupidity, boy. Now get the fuck out of my sight before I do destroy your ship as well, Captain. Is that clear?"

"Tango launch! Vampires in flight!" The five missiles could easily be seen on sensors. (3)

"AMS grid intercept, Weps return fire with all capital missiles that can range to target," Holmes immediately ordered. "Precharge all Naval Laser and Naval Particle Cannons, track steady but fire only on my mark," he completes his orders.

Again the airspace on the far side of the _Absinthe_ flashed green-white-red as the Laser AMS systems went to work on the five woefully exposed missiles. After that was done, Gerald got the luxury of being able to calmly watch as fifteen Killer Whale capital missiles were launched from the Absinthe on a direct attack course for the _Helderton_. By luck, enough of the enemy guns were able to track in on two of the missiles and intercept them, but thirteen hellish strikes of capital missiles were more than enough to get the enemy Captain's attention.

"_Absinthe_, this is _Helderton_. We are standing down, but do not think this is the last of this battle. We will come back, and we will meet you on even or better terms next time."

"Bring Warships with more guns next time, Captain. Your ship does not have the firepower to challenge the _Absinthe_, much less anything bigger. Now reclaim any survivors and get lost. _Absinthe_ is out." The ship rotates to face the direction it had come from, then fired its engines almost to the firewall to bring it to a dead stop in less than a minute. Another thirty seconds and it was headed back where it came from, as was Gerald.

The Neue Ziel Upgrade moved forward of the Absinthe to verify there was no more enemy presence in the area he had disabled the first enemy MS. Nothing had appeared in the area yet. _I hope you enjoyed the show, pilot_, Gerald declares as he passes nearby what was left of the enemy MS.

_Most entertaining, especially your desire to let someone live. I wonder why, if you are unknown and not Pirates, the Earth Alliance must have absolute confidence in your abilities. More so than the Archangel you serve with, I do believe_.

_You will quickly find that your beliefs are so grossly invalid that the reality will destroy anything you think you perceive_, Gerald replies as a new contact comes onto his screens, another MS but one his computer estimated at 100+ tons.

The range to the contact was grossly short, and the pilot knew it. Immediately his Beam Rifle centered on the far larger Neue Ziel but it did not fire, the pilot apparently staring at the craft in front of him. A quick check by Gerald using his newtype skills confirmed the reality: the pilot was frozen with dread, seeing the demonic enemy craft in front of it and also seeing two Warships dead and a third with major holes in it.

"Move out, pilot," Gerald orders. "Your force is withdrawing. Reclaim any survivors and move out, you will not be fired upon unless you fire on us first."

"Who...are you maniacs? Walking midget tanks and massive space armors, what the hell is this?"

"Cold, hard reality, pilot. Get used to it. Now get a move on before your ship leaves you." Gerald rotates his armor to his original course and thrusts to moving again.

-x-x-x-

Natarle thought she had stirred to consciousness about three times during whatever was happening to her, and in each time it had been less than a pleasant experience. Her body had definitely felt like she had been shot several times, which is what Azraiel had done trying to get her to fire the Lohengrin at a ship that she had a feeling she could not have destroyed if the _Dominion_ had not been damaged beforehand and had the first strike of the shooting match.

Her mind tried focusing on what she remembered of the two ships, but after a few seconds the only thing that came to her mind was the sight of the starboard forward leg of the _Dominion_ and the door that had been mostly sheared off by a single stroke. She thought she heard the sound if a medical monitor nearby, but part of her wasn't sure, just like the remainder made no sense to her. She could have sworn she would have been dead already, but somehow she was still thinking. Natarle thought being dead meant no thinking, but if she was dead so far she wasn't objecting. At least she wasn't in pain any more.

Another two minutes of her mind wandering, she realized that she was not dead, because the roof of wherever she was at actually did not match anything that Heaven should have. Unless God had a sense of humor, a reinforced plate ceiling would not be needed in the eternal calm. So she had to be alive, but for sure she was not somewhere in Earth Alliance Control, unless they had a secret base somewhere around Mendel that she did not know about. Such lack of foresight would definitely be in the playbook for the Earth Alliance brass, since they went out of their way to not assign a registration code to the _Archangel_ which caused massive problems for said ship throughout its entire journey, just as one example among many. Though, who would have a Warship like what she fought?

She tried to move her right arm, and she could move it. Her left responded as well, as well as every joint on her legs from the toes up. Strange, that, she knew she had been shot in the left thighbone by Azraiel and probably would have lost use of it, but it was working. Confirmed that her joints and most of her limbs were still working, she began to test for raw energy, to see if she could push herself to sitting. For someone who had been shot, she found herself not lacking in physical energy, though putting pressure on her left hand made clear note that she had at least one, possibly as many as three intravenous drips in her. Her right had no such drips.

After a few moments of mustering will, she began the process of moving her lower body back and her torso up, at least to sit up and see what was around her, but she had not moved more than five centimeters before someone spoke. "What's the word, Doc?" a guy's voice requests.

"Same as last you were here, sir, the pilots are stabilized and the system is working on what caused this nightmare to them, the Commander is almost 100 and ready to go, but still unconscious."

"Comatose?" the apparent commander asks.

"Neg, mental fluctuations shows her mind in varying states of activity. It should not be long before she stirs for the first in quite a while."

"Understood. When she's cleared I want to know. Understanding the denizens of this place may be our only saving grace in months to come."

"Will do," the Doctor replies. "What's the latest scuttle?" she asks after a few moments.

This elicited a rather grim chuckle from the officer. "Where do you want me to start, Doc?"

"Surprise me, sir," she replies simply.

"Well, first off, Jamestown has his report in."

"And the verdict?" the Doc asks.

"Four years from materials-in-hand, and that is under perfect conditions."

"It won't take these Blue Cosmos bastards more than six months to render any hopes of 'perfect conditions' a dead hope."

"And that makes your estimate the most aggressive of all the officers, but not by much. Any reason why?"

"Once they figure out our own regs don't allow us to keep people out, we'll be up to our asses in terrorists. Hope the Marines are up to the challenge, because once it begins it will get bloody quickly for both sides."

"That makes sense," the Commanding Officer replies. "And on the subject of Blue Cosmos, we have confirmed fairly easily that that guy you patched an arm full of five-five-six holes is Murutha Azraiel, the chairman of the National Defense Industry Association.

"Also known as the legal arm of Blue Cosmos," the Doctor completely the thought. "I take it is his ass on the chopping block?"

"Aff, though the 'how' is up for grabs right now. I might just do it myself to rid Existence of a terrorist, I might hold him and hand him over to ZAFT for them to try, prosecute and execute for the attack on Junius Seven. Hard to say which at this time."

"I know which way the books say, and I know what I want to say, but I'll spare saying either," the Doc says. Audibly, the two had moved from left to right, though as Natarle was feigning sleep she could not watch them moving.

"What a bloody reality we have found ourself in," the Command Officer notes.

"Most of me knows this is pure random chance and dumb luck we are here. The rest of me believes that this is engineering on Fate's part," the Doc declares in a very tired, resigned voice. "Thankfully, injuries from normal ops have gone down since the faulty jump, so I find myself with plenty of time to wander and only now a reason to do doubles or triples."

"Not worried about burning yourself out?"

"Neg, sir, I can do a quad with only a small pick-me-up after the third and still be good for it. And before you start complaining, sir, myself and Rochelle are more than enough for this low-pri med ward, keep the staff thick in the areas we need it, like Bay Nine, maybe?"

"Your logic is cold, cold," the Commander replies.

"We Marines cannot be that bad, can we?" someone a lot closer to Natarle than the Doc and the CO notes.

Silence for a few seconds. "Don't make me answer that, Marine," the Doc replies.

"Aff, milady," the Marine replies immediately.

"Ship's Jester reporting," Natarle could clearly tell that the voice was from the intercom. "Jump Core Charge is presently at zero and will remain that way for a helluva long time. Thank you and have a good day."

"What else goes, sir?" The doctor asks, apparently ignoring the wisecrack from the Ship's Jester. She really questioned why a ship would have an official jester, but the joke really didn't make sense so there was little to no hazard of her laughing.

"The _Dominion_ is almost fully staffed. We beat the hell out of it, but their armor is so far backwards that repairing it is simple. The ship itself is almost as automated as ours, most of the functions, systems and features on it are intuitive. And like the old _Pegasus_-class it is atmosphere entry capable, meaning if we have to send a team down to 'persuade' the EA brass in close quarters we have that option."

"Same as the _Archangel_?" the Doc asks.

"Better sensors by ten percent, but still nowhere near par to what we use. That is one thing on the upgrade block for that ship of several. The rest of the ship is damn good for its purpose, if more than a bit expensive and not really easily transportable."

"And speaking of the _Archangel_, how are they coming along?"

"Nerves, mostly, them, the _Kusanagi_ and the _Eternal_. They trust us only to a level, despite we having the same objectives as they."

"Unsurprising," the Doc replies. "Out of five other large Star Empires, the only of our ancient rivals that actually trusts us is the New Moon Empire. The remainder would as readily knife our throats as they would purchase a megaton of manufactured goods from us. Old hat story, though, we won the war, we write the rules afterward."

"And we are going to have to do it again. This Azraiel shithead was dead-set on finding some way to bypass Neutron Jammers so he could use his nuclear arsenal on the PLANTs. I'll give him points for dedication, but the genocide thing definitely earns him a place in hell for his efforts."

"Thank Fate that he does not have access to a Kinetic Energy WMD or Antimatter weapon, else we would already be parked in orbit around a dead world."

"You said it," the CO replies immediately. "Cold, dead world."

"Cold, hard reality," the Doc replies. "Too bad they don't realize what they are attempting to accomplish."

"Yeah, can't be helped for now. We'll just have to, erm, 'reeducate' them on the error of their logic after the shooting is over."

"I take it you are moving forward with the rumored Oplan, then?"

"Aff. Skank the navies of both sides, no more war. Once that is done, we can force negotiations to the favor of neutral parties, which should easily give us the leeway to get on with it."

"And what if we can't go home in this rust-bucket, sir?"

"Then we are stuck here, wherever 'here' is. We'll just have to build ourselves a new life here and hope we can avoid being annihilated by the local hatred for all things different."

"Thanks, sir, I needed to hear that," though Natarle would have thought it a sarcastic comment, the Doctor's voice was quite sincere.

"Not a problem, Doc." the scrape of chairlegs gets Natarle's attention, which was plenty warning that this was a gravity area. "Listen, after you can go off-duty and these four are cleared, I want to see you in briefing for your program requirements. Incidentally, I am off the Conn in twenty hours, that would be a good time to go over the necessary paperwork and options."

"Aff, sir, I'll be surrendering the midwatch to Rochelle in ten myself, some required downtime and after that I am open."

"Excellent," the CO replies. "By your leave?"

"A Star Admiral asks for leave from a subordinate officer in one of the med wards of his own ship?" The Doc replies in shock, whether pretend or not Natarle could not tell.

"Oh my," the CO replies, wondering what land mine he stepped on in all likelihood.

"Shoo, get out of here. See you in twenty, sir."

"Aff, good luck with these four," and the steps of the CO as he left were just as Natarle expected: the two footfalls a second of a proper soldier. After a few moments of what sounded to be shuffling papers and the scratch of a pen, the sound of lighter footsteps approach near her made her wonder as the curtain to her area opened and closed, followed by the sound of someone working with a control panel.

"All right, Commander, you can stop feigning unconsciousness. The Boss is gone and likely will not be back for another two hours." Up close, the voice of the Doctor reminded her a lot of Flay Allster but lacked the panic edge to it that Flay always had.

"How did you...know?" Natarle asks, hoping she did not sound too wearied.

"Simple. Your heart rate had gone up ten points and remained there about two minutes before the Commander walked in, as well as your neural activity tripled in the same time frame. You were awake and testing your ability to move minutes before the Star Admiral showed up."

"Busted," Natarle mutters. "What happened to me, and where am I?"

"What was the last you remember of the bridge incident on the _Dominion_?" the Doctor asks kindly. Natarle was trying to focus in on her, but the lights in the room were making it hard for her to see properly.

"I remember...Azraiel shot me several times, ordering me to tell him how to fire the Lohengrin, then...a grenade sound, then I don't know what happened."

"You must have been falling in and out of lucidity at that time, then. You missed a few parts of the incident, but you can read up on it at a later time."

"How bad?" Natarle asks, not sure why things were going so well...

"When you were carried in here, you had eight bullet holes in you in various places, had lost a lot of blood, and were fairly close to the edge. All that is dealt with, you should be back to 100 percent here in a few hours, when you have had some time to rest without the nanos."

"You...huh? Nanos? Did I step out of being an Earth Alliance Captain and into some crazy science fiction movie set or something?"

"If 'sane' is waking up in the morning knowing you are escort and babysitter to some insane terrorist asshole who wants to annihilate a whole group of people with nuclear weapons, and in so doing will completely destroy all meaningful life on Earth, I shall take the dose of 'crazy' today, thank you," the doctor replies immediately. So far all Natarle could see of her was her left side profile as she worked on a terminal next to her bed, but what she was seeing had something unusual about her that she could not yet define...

"Huh," Natarle replies, despite her misgivings she could not worm her way around such logic. In all reality, Azraiel was definitely crazy enough to use nukes on the PLANTs, and crazy enough to realize that using nukes on stationary objects like that would assuredly turn them into not-so-stationary objects, which meant a collision with Earth. No two ways about it, really.

"No, for the record, you are not dead, this is not a movie set, and I was not jawing when I said 'nanos'. Two five-millie injections and six hours later, no more bullet holes. Wonderful thing, nanomachines, you can program them to construct, repair, modify or destroy just about anything, and the more you use the faster it gets done. Nothing to it, just program to treat trauma, hook up an I-V of fluids, do the injections, and wait for the results."

"Unreal," Natarle moans. "I'm on a ZAFT ship, then, right?"

"Neg, not at all. You are on a Magi warship, not Earth Alliance, not Aube, not ZAFT, nor any other nation on the planet below us, and unlike the thinking of your counterpart in the ZAFT fleet we just skanked, we are not pirates. We shoot pirates. For target practice."

Natarle's vision had completed returning to proper usage and light sensitivity, allowing her to clearly see the Doctor at work, as she was going over four sets of scanner panels. Seeing her at work, Natarle had no doubt that she was incredibly talented at running the systems, enough so that she wondered why she was just a mere doctor. Physically she wasn't anything as voluptuous as Flay Allster was, but something about her fell into the category of what the average guy would find attractive. Not really small or large, tall or short, curved or flat, she could easily fit in the dictionary under the heading 'nondescript' if anyone put pictures in such books. The only thing that really stood out about her was the auburn hair halfway down her back, though strangely for a military officer she thought she saw a rather large earring sticking out of that.

"So, what am I? Prisoner, guest, space debris, or something else?"

"Hard to say right now, Commander. Normally, you would be Isorla (4) to the Commander of the ship that did the most damage to you, which would likely be the _Hyperion_. Problem is, new playing field and new rules means you're a simple prisoner for now, fate to be determined later. Honestly, though, you stay clean, I don't see any issue whereby the Star Admiral would hold on to you for any reason past the conclusion of hostilities."

"That's a relief. Though, what do you mean by—" The metal straining sound of a door opening brought Natarle's question to a quick halt.

"Doc, got a delivery for you," someone out in the main bay area declares, which immediately causes the Doctor to grimace. "Three used Earth Alliance research scientists, crew says they have a hand in these three pilots you got racked here. Late-model, some dents and scrapes but nothing major."

"Hold, I shall be there momentarily," she declares to the curtain. "For now, Commander, I suggest you simply rest. Your body should already be through purging the nanomachines that undid the trauma, but it will be at least an hour before you can really use your strength in the injured areas. Ask the Marine here if you need anything."

And Natarle realized that the thing that looked like some kind of ornate metal statue (strange place for one, that) was actually some kind of heavy armored soldier with a massive rifle to go with. On the way out, Natarle got a slightly better look at the earring on the Doc, and she had to wonder why she would be wearing such large, possibly electronic earrings on a warship. "These three, Doc, are reported to have been the 'handlers' for the three pilots of the Earth Alliance Gundams."

_They use the same term as Kira did for the specialized machines_, Natarle thinks.

"It is also reported that they supposedly used some form of drug to do the controlling, one that had crippling side effects if allowed to lapse," and the hint of anger to that purpose was definitely audible in the voice of the soldier in question.

"Thank you, Point Commander," the doctor replies.

"Marine, if I may, I would like to see this," Natarle requests.

"I advise against," the Marine replies simply, though the voice was not unkind. Natarle could tell it was a lady inside that armor, which made little sense since the armor did not give any physical indication of her gender.

"Those three pilots are still my responsibility," Natarle notes fairly.

"Very well, but if the Doc says you get back to bed, you do so," the Marine notes quietly.

Natarle found herself in a set of light blue pajamas instead of her Earth Alliance Officer's uniform, which made sense since she had been shot several times. She found she could stand easily, but as the Doc reported for her to actually use her strength was a significant effort. Moving to the curtain was simple despite her limitations, and once at it she could look through the center separation between the two halves and see the three doctors that had 'controlled' the pilots. All three were kneeling in front of five of the Marines, though these were armed differently from the one sentry in her ward cubicle, these each had a large shield that brought to mind the Roman tower shields and each was studded with weapons, ammo, grenades, even what appeared to be explosive blocks on the fifth trooper, the one farthest from her. At least one of the Marines recognized she was there, but since Natarle was not presenting a threat she was pretty much ignored in favor of those that were a threat as well as the objective.

"So, shall you speak to me of what you used on them?" the Dock asks the third of the scientists, herself having squatted down in front of the kneeling research scientists. There was no response for almost thirty seconds. "All right, Point Commander, test their hearing."

Natarle clenched her teeth as the Point Commander for their unit draws the charging handle back on his assault rifle, the venerable M4 assault rifle that Natarle had seen from time to time but was actually so old and outclassed by newer weps that she wondered why they had it still. The next thing did not frustrate her, it actually scared her shitless as the same officer pulled a grenade off his chestplate, hooked the pin on a small pin hook on his shoulder plate, and ripped down to give the three an immediate rendition of the 'pin out of grenade' sound. "All right, which one of you three wants the pineapple up the ass first?" the Marine asks.

"You can't do this! We're prisoners!" the middle Scientist protests.

"Neg, not quite," the Doctor replies. "First off, you are military officers captured in a war zone in civilian clothes, which technically puts you in the classification of spies. Second, if you are asking us to play by Geneva or Hague convention policies after you use torturous methods on your own personnel to control them, you have definitely come to the wrong ward to seek solace. This brings us back to the question, which one of you wants the first one, or shall you start answering my questions?"

"We'll talk, please don't shoot us," the third Scientist says.

"Damnit, Grey," the center one barks.

"We've lost, and I'm not dying to protect a secret that won't last anyways. Fuck you guys if you're dumb enough to blow it like that," he replies immediately thereafter. "The Iso Ward on the _Dominion_, the adjacent medical labs," the scientist begins.

"Shut up, Grey, you know what's at stake here," the center one orders.

"The chemical you're looking for is in a small brown sealed bottle, it's a cocktail of various psychotropics and stimulants to give them an edge over the competition. I'm not sure what you can do except try to wean them off it, but the stuff is in locker three."

"You, Marine, you and one other escort this one down to the _Dominion_ to collect said chemicals. Take a couple techs to assist. Brig these other two silent ones; if they are stupid enough to be obstructionist, they can argue the matter with their consciences and the cell walls."

"Aff, Doc. On your feet or I drag you to holding, boy," the Point Commander orders of the center scientist. The leftmost was smart enough to not resist, but the Center one did indeed end up being dragged, practically kicking and screaming, out the door and presumably toward the brig areas.

"You can't do this to us! We will rule this—" his sentence is cut off by the door closing.

"Bloody hardheads," the Marine in Natarle's cubicle declares. "They have lost, they know they have lost, yet they still try to compromise the pilots. Stupid, pointless resistance at the cost of innocent lives."

"Can't be helped," Natarle replies weakly. "Some people...never give up." Natarle herself was not ready to give up, but looking at the doc she was suspecting of not being human

"Well, you should give up your fight with gravity right now and get back in bed," the Doctor orders. "I will get the pilots straightened out, Commander. It is simply a matter of time."

-x-x-x-

(21 July CE71, 0900 hours UTC)

"Is there anything your ship needs, Admiral?" Lacus asks. "We will be out here for quite a while, two or three months at the least," she notes.

Wayne was expecting a bit of a delay as they lined up the resistance to take it to the Earth Alliance and ZAFT hard-asses, but as much as three months was outside what he considered 'effective use of time'. Still, he figured the locals used to taking their campaigns in slow fashion; Magi traded planets in a matter of days, but not so around here.

"Neg, we have food, water and parts for at least a year on hand, Lacus. Thank you for the offer, but for now you should focus on getting your own material deficiencies squared away," Wayne says, hoping his voice did not betray anything more than what he said.

It did. "That's not the whole story, Star Admiral," Lacus replies.

It never ceased to amaze Wayne how quickly she could read his intentions. She had never trained military, yet she was the respected figurehead between the fleet ships, easily as influential or more so than Captain Ramius, Colonel Kisaka and Commander Waltfeld. Her strategic acumen was not lacking, either, at least as far as Calamira could tell.

"Aff, I surrender," Wayne says, holding his hands up in the classic 'French Salute' pose. It had quickly come to be the joke about being caught on the ship, and there were indications that the said habit was bleeding over to at least the _Archangel_. "The ship is well stocked and provisioned, even for a complete screwup fleet such as this one. Effectively, I have enough supplies to stay away from Magi fleet facilities for over two years, and food for at least a year at full crew, which this ship certainly is not full crewed. My problem is going to be after the war and settling into an abandoned colony for stationkeeping while the _Mjolnr_ is repaired. What kind of resources can you scratch up to recommission a mostly-dead colony? Nothing major for now, since even after the shooting ends the _Mjolnr_ is going to have to ride roughshod over the players to minimize the chance of flare-ups."

"I don't think it is going to be that bad, not after they see the futility of the war," Lacus says, showing a hint of her inexperience on such matters.

"No, not that bad, but bad enough to warrant our continued activity on the matters. Not to mention, the terms of negotiation are easier to modify when they know they are sitting in, on or next to the nastiest Warship in the area," Wayne offers as reply. He could tell that Waltfeld agreed offhand, Colonel Kisaka agreed but was hardly showing it, and Captain Ramius was about half-half on the issue. "Think petulant children, basically, with a discipline problem. They don't like being told what to do by anyone, especially the new schoolmaster in town." Put that way, even Captain Ramius agreed with him.

"I still don't think they would continue after it's over," Lacus replies, proving she still did not agree.

"Okay, we shall settle this honorably." From his uniform upper sleeve pocket he pulled out a folded c-bill. "Fifty c-bills says that after the shooting is over, the Earth Alliance is not going to negotiate in good faith on major matters until after we have 'handled' them a bit roughly, be it by oblique threats or an actual minor shooting incident."

"No take," Commander Waltfeld replies.

"Nope," Colonel Kisaka replies.

"I'll take that bet," Commander La Flaga replies. "Except, how much is fifty C-bills worth?"

"One C-bill will buy me two gallons of fresh dairy product on a planet where it is distributed. One gallon on a planet that has to import it."

"Yeep," Cagalli groans. "That's five, almost six earth-dollars to one C-bill."

"Stable economy," Wayne replies a moment thereafter. "Everyone expects stability and a meager amount of growth, none of this roller-coaster-ride of global ties and interconnected trading markets and stuff like that. Get into that, and a chain reaction of events outside your control can cripple your economy."

"Attention Ship's Techs, a faulty pressure release valve in Marine Barracks 4-Charlie needs replaced. Control head is presently spewing hot, steaming bullshit at this time. Thank you, Ship's Jester is out."

"And for a second there, I thought that was a legitimate service call," Mu opines aloud, since most service calls were broadcast like that inside the _Mjolnr_.

"What about international trade?" Commander Waltfeld replies, getting back on topic.

"Trade? Trade is good, so long as it is fair-market trade. Volatility is not good, especially when societies are built solely around trade and are at the whims of other parties," Wayne replies.

"And what happens when you get asked the question about trade?" Cagalli asks. "If what you are planning happens, you will become your own government in essence," Cagalli continues, to which Kisaka nods.

"Simple. We trade with those who are honorable in their dealings to themselves and their neighbors. And I think there are some growth market potentials here, a few military and a lot civilian." _Once the world finds out about our ship, they're going to want super-monitor Ships like this one and they are going to want FTL Jumpships, more of the latter than else_, Wayne thinks behind a passive mien. There was no way in hell he would allow someone to build a ship equivalent to the _Mjolnr_, and he possessed a plethora of ways to make sure it never happened, but civilian Jumpships were another story.

_Ruthless, Wayne, seriously ruthless_, Calamira notes telepathically from inside the Bridge, which was a bulkhead away from the conference room he was in.

_Object to it_? Wayne asks by way of his neural implants, which the AI was kind enough to redirect to her terminal in the command circle.

_I would not have it in any other fashion_, Calamira replies almost immediately.

"Which brings me to another question," Kisaka begins; "You once said that while the Magi rely on the _Phalanx_ ships for fleet defense and patrol, the real heavy lifting was preformed by smaller ships. I presume most of those are civilian?"

"For every class of actual dedicated Warship among the Star Empires, there are three classes of combat Jumpship and ten classes of civilian Jumpship. The largest of Jumpships is less than a fifth of the size of this monster," and Wayne bangs his fist lightly on the conference table, "and civilian corporations can easily own their own fleet of ships. Hell, Hessian Systems (5) has more civilian-issue Jumpships than there are automobiles on the planet below us."

"Then I guess it would be prudent to ask if it would be possible..." The sentence Cagalli began trailed off after a warning glance from Kisaka.

"Let me guess. You're asking if it would be possible for this ship to teach people how to build Jumpships, right?" Wayne asks, to which Cagalli only looks at him, then back down to the conference table and the supply manifests she was supposed to be haggling over. "Relax, Cagalli, it was actually part of our initial expected minimum output of give-and-take to keep the war from following us all over the place. That was actually before we found out that there are people around here with a sense of honor. Now, it is expected of us, at least in the maintenance of good will to honorable parties, and it will also help improve stability among the parties."

"How?" Lacus blurts out. "If the hatred follows with the new residence, then there will only be—"

"Care to take a guess what the conditions are on, say, New Terra? Carver Five? Andurien? Port Arthur? Luthien? Tharkad? Just to name a few," Wayne asks, which immediately brought that line of thinking to heel. "Two rules lead to no major wars: One, one planet one government, except in the case of treaties requiring a planet be split. I highly suggest you avoid that, even two governments on one planet is a cluster. Second, keep the people actively working toward their own lives and expansions, and there will be little to no time for them to spread the old-world hatred. If there is nothing to be envious over, ergo you can't look across the ocean and see a whole bunch of rich folks in downtown NYC, there will be no war. Give the people reason not to fight and they will not fight."

"And that puts the Earth Alliance out of the running for a Jumpship once you start making them," Commander La Flaga notes.

"You got it," Wayne replies immediately.

"Isn't that a bit cold? We are trying to reform Blue Cosmos, after all," Captain Ramius replies fairly.

"You can only reform those who want to be reformed, Captain, or those who are willing to see the light before it burns them. If they are willing to kill off the influence of BC inside their command structure, we may be able to work out an arrangement. Keep in mind, however, they already want to see Coordinators exterminated, and they are going to want the same of the Eugenics on this ship when they realize what a Eugenic really is. So, it only logically follows that I would not aid the man who attempts to knife me in the back." The looks he got from the remainder of those around the table, excepting his own officers, were answer enough. "Oh yes, I sound rather heartless about it, right?"

"To say the least," Captain Ramius replies.

"And this is just the 'no contest' version of how Magi deal with terrorists and sponsoring states," Wayne grumps. "I would disdain to see your reactions to more 'proactive' counter-terrorism measures."

"You mean, you actually do, erm," Lacus begins, but falters.

"After you have had persons trying to off-and-on exterminate you for three thousand five hundred years, you will understand where we Magi hail from. Now, shall we dig ourselves out of this morbid rut and back onto the matter of logistics?"

"This is insane," Commander La Flaga replies, apparently unwilling to give up the turn of conversation.

Wayne sighs as he cradles his forehead in his right palm. "Nothing dies harder than a perverse idea. I owe the Fates twenty c-bills for this one."

-x-x-x-

(21 July CE71, 1300 hours UTC)

The Haro units were something of an anachronism that didn't go away with the times. Too trivial to be considered serious, yet too useful to completely can or relegate to civilian pursuits only, the half-meter-wide Haro balls just never went away even as the Nanotech systems came online. After all, the Nanos took time to do their thing, the Haros could do some things in a matter of moments and others no longer than it took to fetch a part.

And then there was the nostalgia factor. The Haros had been part of the Fleet for millennia, making them one of the oldest production units out there in common use. Nobody wanted to see them go, and many people wanted to see more of them in operation. The latter group actually liked the new mods to the good old haros that gave them a serious upgrade in personality and intelligence, almost to the point of a full construct-class AI (6). So, the Haros were definitely here to stay, despite the midget Haros that had been seen around the presence of Lady Lacus Clyne as most of the Magi thought of her.

Though, anyone would admit that the Haros tended to misread some concepts when given a good opportunity...

"Yo man, 'Sup?" Haro Six asks as he rolls to a stop next to the bunk of the particular Marine Star Commander he was looking for. Said Marine was presently in his bed, going over some note-puters to clear up some of the dreaded paperwork.

"What's bangin', Haro-man?" The Marine replies, then; "Wilkes, get your ass down to the firing range or I'll have to suspend you. Your quals are a week overdue," he says before Haro could reply.

"Yeah, yeah," the said Marine replies beofre he jumps clear of his bunk and heads out the door.

"Need some help, Marine-Sama, got a new piece of info I need to research and Spitz down in the Engine Room said you were the one to talk to."

"Spitz? Don't have a clue who you're talking about," the Marine replies, meaning it. He did have a reputation for being a 'scrounger' and 'fixer', which is probably why this guy Spitz had sent the Haro up here. "What'c'ha need?"

"I need some porn," the Haro asks in the same level voice. The lady Marine in the next bunk over breaks down into a laughing fit so violent that she fell out of bed laughing.

"I know I didn't hear that right," the Marine replies. "What do you want with porn?"

"Trying to figure out what is so attractive to people about porn," the Haro continues. By now the whole barracks was laughing about the conversation.

"Okay, do you want male straight, female straight, gay or lesbian?" Star Commander Bonne, replies.

"Holy shit dude, you have access to all of that? You da man!" the Haro does some kind of funky spin on its base. "But, hold on, you mean this is linked with human sexuality?"

"What, Spitz didn't tell you about that?" the Star Commander asks.

"Fuck that man, forget I asked," the Haro notes in what was clearly a disgusted tone. "Perverts! Everywhere I go, perverts!" One thing that the Haros had been programmed with was a general distaste of such subject matters, though 'why' was outside anyone's guess except for the Ship's AI.

"Welcome to reality," the Star Commander replies as he gets back to his paperless paperwork.

"Haro! Haro!" the sound of some kind of bouncing, metal-against-metal clang could be heard just inside the door to the barracks. "Haro! Anyone home?"

"No way, that ain't no Haro," the Haro next to the Star Commander's bed declares.

"Haro! Haro!" The Star Commander watched as the pink ball bounced across the room and stopped its forward bouncing in front of the clearance where Haro Six was at. "Haro! Wanna play, Haro?"

"Who brought this weak shit into mah house?" Haro declares in a very grumpy voice.

"Haro! Does not compute!" The Haro bounced up onto the Star Commander's bed and was bouncing there, albeit in a muted fashion, until the Star Commander batted it back onto the ground.

"I'll bet it doesn't compute you dumb piece of pink bird-shit," Haro Six declares as the little Pink Haro begins bouncing around it in circles.

"Let's Play! Let's Play! Tag! Tag!" It asks in its high, whiny attempted-Haro voice.

"Dude, man, you have a daughter now Six?" Haro Nine asks as it rolls to a stop at the end of the causeway.

"Fuck off, Nine! Like hell this weak shit is related to me!" Haro Six declares. "Stupid!" Six shouts as it rotates full 360 real fast while whipping out its arm. That done, the Pink ball of annoyance was slapped hard enough that it flew clear across the room, into a specialist Marine's lockerbox, bounced off it and skidded to a stop most the way back to Haro Six.

"Whoa, man, two points! You da man, Six! You da man!" Haro Nine declares as the target finishes rolling to a stop.

"Haro!" And the Pink one began a series of electronic whistling noises.

"Oh yeah you little pink puffball? Badmouth me in binary analog? I GONNA BARBECUE YO ASS!"

"Haro! Does not compute!" the Pink one declares as it begins bouncing again.

"Yo, check this out!" Haro Nine says as it rolls over to one of the ubiquitous recycle cans and lays it down on its side. "Take the shot, ya pansy!"

"Hole in one, slam dunkin'!" Haro Six retorts as it rolls past the Pink Haro, who really did not have a clue what was going on, and then Haro Six rolled back toward the Pink One and flung out its foot to kick it while in mid-bounce. True to its aim, the Pink Haro entered the can and struck so hard that the can itself bounced off the wall it was nearby and spun several times before the pink ball of annoyance was whipped out of the still-spinning can.

"GOAL!" No less than five Marines shout at the same time after Haro Six made the shot.

"Haro! You play mean!" the pink one shouts as it bounces high several times to clear over Haro Six and head for the door.

"Get 'im Laddies!!!" Haro Six shouts as it points at the pink one that was escaping.

Haros Six and Nine, as well as Haro Two who had stopped by to see what the commotion was, immediately gave chase in the classic way a Haro chased anything across flat ground: rolling.

"I'm gonna hamburger this annoyance across the central corridor! And mount its faceplate to the prow of the ship!" Haro Six shouts as they continue chasing it forward, covering a fifth of the ship's length in a matter of a minute.

"Meanies! Haro! Meanies!" the Pink one shouts angrily as it continues running for the area of the ship that it thought it would be safe in.

"I'll give you mean you sorry pink excuse for a football! Right up your pink circuit-board ass!"

"Haro! Lacus! Haro Haro! Lacus!" It finally bounced into the waiting arms of its mistress.

"Oh!" Lacus half-shouts in surprise as the three Haros from the _Mjolnr_ literally skid to a stop about three meters in front of her. "Wow, those Haros are huge!" she says as she realizes what she was looking at was a far larger version of what she was holding...

"Haro! Meanies!" And once again the Pink one began its electronic whistling routine, sounding rather flustered and a bit scared at the same time.

"I don't remember teaching Haro that word," Athrun declares.

"Let that pink piece of crap loose and I'll slap some more vocabulary into it," Haro Six declares while flexing one of its robotic hands.

"Mister Pink, are you being naughty?" Lacus asks in her usual consoling, playful voice. The Pink Haro lets loose another set of electronic squeals while in her hands.

"URRRHHHH!" Haro Six growls in frustration as it makes a tight rotational circle in the middle of the hall, stopping to look at the Pink Haro. "Why don't you come _down here_ and badmouth me in binary you pink toilet floater!" Haro Six shouts in clear frustration.

"What the hell is this, Haro Six?" Century Commander Lightbringer asks as he walks past Lacus to interpose himself partially between Lacus and the three Haros on the ground.

The Haro in question straightens up and salutes Gerald, as did the other two Haros at the same time. They definitely knew how to recognize superior officers, Ahtrun figured. "That pink dumbass toy wandered down to the Marine Barracks I was chillin' in, startin' shit with me and the Marines, so I had to 'reeducate' it on the error of its logic, Century Commander. We chased it down here, but you can see where it is now, and that thing is STILL badmouthing me! Lemme at it!"

"Stand down, Haro Six, that's an order," Gerald declares immediately, knowing what the Haros were really capable of if wound up enough.

"Aye, Century Commander," it salutes again.

"Return to your duty posts, and chill the hell out," he orders immediately thereafter

"Grr, understood, sir. I'll warn the lady, though, if that thing gets loose and starts shit again, don't expect to find it intact," Haro Six declares before it closes up and begins rolling toward the rear of the ship.

"More like, don't expect to find it again, period, _que pasa_?" Haro Two declares as it does a backflip that segued into its roll back from whence it came.

"Smack you later, Pink-Ball," Haro Nine declares as it hunches down and rolls away as well.

"Haro! Haro! Meanies! Haro!" Lacus' Haro declares before letting loose another string of binary.

"Those Haros have some serious attitude," Athrun declares as he watches them roll down the hall and eventually go their separate ways.

"Yeah, but it takes a helluva lot to piss them off like those three were. What did your Haro do to warrant that?" Gerald asks after he turns back to Lacus.

"Haro! Does not compute! Haro!"

"I don't know," Athrun declares. "I don't think I want to know, either," he finishes his thought.

"Enough of this crazy electronic crap. Lemme buy you a drink, both of you, if you don't object."

"Nothing alcoholic for me, sorry," Lacus replies.

"I'll pass for now," Athrun replies. "If this gets any crazier, though, I may take you up on that offer."

"Suit yourself," Century Commander Lightbringer replies as he walks the several paces to his usual hide-hole, the Sniper Bar and Grill. Lacus and Athrun returned to their ships in due course, having duties of their own to attend to.

It would be the Ship's Jester that summed it up for everyone involved: "Attention all hands, the Haros may be in a foul mood at this time. Use caution and keep your belts cinched tight, people. That is all."

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

Clean-up on the south side of Mendel, ZAFT Warships got gutted and chunked. I had to ad-hoc some of the detail, like the movable cargo / fuel partition, but that is detail work and extrapolation on my part. ZAFT may be good, but they are still new to the naval war thing compared to the Earth Alliance and they are babe-in-the-woods Greenhorns compared to the Magi on that subject. Despite their lack of true veterancy and good, solid ships, they still managed to cause a significant amount of damage to the Absinthe, as will be detailed in chapter to come.

You got a taste of Marine combat in this chapter, but you can rest assured that the Marine antics are far from over as of right now. Marines have a lot more potential for being destructive than you saw here, and I intend on deploying all their destructive tendencies in due time. I am thinking, maybe correct a really plot hole in my original story using them? Har har har...

I'll be honest here, this one was not quite as much fun as the prior chapter, but it was still hellishly funny to write, especially the Haro scene. Someone once asked if I would be willing to introduce the UC Haro to the CE Haro, so there you go. And No, in case you can't tell, I do not like the CE Haro, it is just way the hell too annoying for my tastes. Of course, there are cures for 'annoying' so... Also, don't expect the Haro antics to be over with at this time. More of the Haros will be seen to come, and this is only the beginning of the war of the Haros...

If some of the bent of the med ward scene does not make sense to your or feels unfinished, you can relax on that account. There will be much more on that account in the way of closure. I just began the process here, but you can expect it will get more airtime here in the next chapter or two.

On an aside, I actually have the next chapter to Archangel's Amazing Adventures ready for deploy at this time, but it is on hold for a beta check to make sure I did not screw something up in the process of the writing. Hold on, people, I will have it ready deployed no later than Thursday, beta check or not.

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Review Replies: I got a whole host of replies to this chapter, thank you one and all for the support and intuitive questions. In some cases, I am going to block quote my original reply, because the information contained within is something I believe should be passed around to everyone.

**Deathzealot**: The next Chapter of AAA is on standby for beta service at this time, I expect I will have it deployed this week. Hold on to your arse, because much is about change on that front. Also, N-Jammers only stop the movement of neutrons (how, I would like to know), they cannot stop the movement of hydrogen isotopes inside a fusion reactor, which is almost all of what the Magi use.

**One Village Idiot**: One block quote of two for this chapter:

Hey, thanks for the review. Always a pleasure :)

BC is just beginning to show what flavor of moron they truly are, and after the shooting is over they will end up making things worse for the EA in short order...but don't take my word for it, stay tuned and observe. They're going to get desperate before things get better.

Azraiel will get his fate, trust me on that if nothing else. He got lucky in not getting killed outright, the dice decided he survived this one. 'Brain-rape' is a helluva way to put such things, but yes, I can see where a society that does not have a Strategic Psionic or equivalent would say such things.

Yes, even with this kind of firepower, the Mjolnr is considered a sub-standard, crap, joke fleet. To answer your question thoroughly, a standard (Regular or Veteran) patrol fleet consists of two Phalanx-class ships operating in tandem, both ships have full Mobile Compliments internal plus at least four monitors apiece plus at least six extra fighter carrier Dropships per ship, bringing the total up to 2 Superdreadnoughts, eight escort monitors (minimum), 400 Mobile Armors (minimum), 600 Mobile Suits and Gundams ratioed about 3 MS to 1 Gundam (minimum), 450 Aerofighters (minimum) plus extra carried assets equal to no less than 1500 fighters, MS, Gundams or an equivalent amount of Mobile Armors per ship. The Mjolnr, on the other hand, started its patrol run far understrength and only partially made up for it by picking up extra assets along the way. An Elite patrol fleet formation consists of the same number of units, but has as much as 95% Gundams and even replaces fighter capacity with Gundams or high-end Mobile Suits, as well as being crewed by the best personnel in the armed forces. It is not uncommon for an elite Patrol fleet to be able to take out as many as three regular or veteran Patrol Fleets on skill alone, the disparity is that great.

To preempt the coming question: this level of force was necessary on patrol fleets (not even counting Strike Fleets) due to the fact that the other Star Empires used large fleets of smaller vessels to take down strategic targets or capture planets, and in some cases the only thing standing in their way was a patrol fleet and the planetary garrison (not often much of a threat to a hardened enemy force). The easiest way for the Magi to counter the massess of smaller battleships, cruisers and destroyers was to reply on heavier ships with large formations of mobile forces, which also had the side effect of increasing the net survivability of the Warships by developing strategies to that battle plan. The increasing veterancy of the Warships in question made things even harder on the enemy fleets as the war progressed, to the point that some fleets became triple-or quadrupe-ranked as Aces, and almost impossible for the enemy to defeat in conventional battle.

For the record, the Phalanx-class ships are outclassed by only two other classes of ship: Asgard-class Superdreadnoughts (7.4 Million tons, belonging to the Dark Moon Empire) and Nirvana-class Ultradreadnoughts (10 million tons, Negaverse Star Empire). The Phalanx is the largest ship commonly used by the Magi, and for almost all purposes it is more than large enough for the job except when facing down a larger foe or a few herds of smaller foes. In particular, the Nirvana-class is commonly referred to as Phalanx Killers for their ability to go toe to toe with a pair of Phalanx-class ships and win almost every time, because the Nirvana-class ships carry more mobile forces than the internal compliments of three Phalanx. All things considered, ZAFT and the Earth Alliance are about to find themselves in a poker game for which they are ill equipped and definitely not trained for.

The antics with the Mobile Armors will get loud fast, and you can expect to see more of the more complex MA in deploy in later chapters, but the mainstay of the Magi is the Dendrobium and the Neue Ziel Upgrade due to production availability and no major requirements to pilot it (like being a Newtype; this excepts having to train for three years to pilot them effectively, of course). And you can expect the MA and the Destroy from the Destiny timeline will make their mark on the scene when the time is right. For the record, a Big Zam can easily overpower the I-Fields carried by the Neue Zile and the Dendrobium, and once that is down (even briefly) it's open season on the hapless smaller Mobile Armors.

In closing, I should note that the presence of Gerald Lightbringer on the Mjolnr is three parts engineering on someone else's part and one part blind luck. Gerald Lightbringer is far beyond the rating of Ace MA pilot, which makes his assignment to such a haphazard post very suspect...

I hope this clarifies things. Mail back if you have any more questions.

**End block Quote for OVI**

**Knives91**: The chaos can be widespread, and be wary about deciding the fate of Existence itself, that may actually be what the Mjolnr is fighting for.

**FraserMage**: Much thank you for the updates on Naval Combat, the Mjolnr and escorts will definitely be getting some improvements in years to come and those sound like a good set of such improvements :P

**Etienne Of The West Wind**: I did not show the Haros at the first opportunity, but the Haro hell is only beginning... Flay's fate will be better illustrated in chapters to come, comrade, but you can rest assured she survived the destruction of the Vesalius.

**Knightowl 4183**: That is a detail point that I have taken into account, but from modern naval practice and not Star Wars, which does something similar. However, maintaining secrecy for the Magi is a moot point, maintaining morale for the crew and mobile forces is one of the major requirements on a 500-day deployment (or more).

**Gatomon 41**: A brief history I will not be doing, I intend on writing out the full tales of the Magi in due course, which are their own traps, pitfalls and bloody battles. There is much working behind the scenes of the Jokers Wild, and it is only fair that the Mjolnr and its events are there for a purpose that should be shown properly... Besides, don't want to spoil all the fun there, after all...

Necroblade: And here is the other block quote of my original reply:

NP for the delay, thanks for the review.

Oh yes, the enemies from the beginning of the story will play a significant part in the story, but in Arcs to come, not in this one. And the mismatch in combat strength is rather deliberate due to the backstory, and will be grossly manifest in battles to come, but keep one thing in mind: winning a battle definitely doesn't mean you survive the period after the war. The hatred you speak of is going to cause a lot of problems in the after-war negotiations, as are other projects and organizations not thus far shown in the JW.

The Magi institutionally are not soldiers of conquest. They can, as necessary, take and hold land but prefer to strike down an enemy and let the civilians sort out the mess themselves. Think of it as a deterrent thing: "I just annihilated your military once. Make us come back, and you're next" kind of thing. Most are smart enough to heed the first warning, most the rest heed the second warning as applied to those who no longer exist; a second visit is almost never needed, especially with Magi history books being openly available to anyone who cares to read up. Though some dunderheads do require a second visit, only a handful of times a third in the Magi's history.

The Magi, and most of the concept around the six Star Empires are my concept that I built and have refined over 12 years of theory and writing. This is actually a side story of its own right to the main history between them, but will definitely be no less influential in the end but for different reasons. History does not repeat, even across alternate dimensions, but it comes extremely close in some cases and history haunts itself from time to time. This is one such haunting of another haunting, shall we say.

As to the Three Ships getting along with the Mjolnr fairly well for starters, there is some distrust there, and it will play a bit of a part in coming chapters, but I'll make one thing clear here: the only people that will in the end truly trust the Mjolnr and what it will become are the complete underdogs (USSA, Scandanavia). ZAFT definitely is not going to trust them because of their immense power and elitism that ZAFT can't match, since Coordinators are good but the Magi have Eugenics, Coordinators one good step farther than ZAFT even dreamed of. The Earth Alliance and Blue Cosmos will outright hate the Mjolnr for defeating them so badly, forcing the issue as they did (shall) and again for their elitism; the message that the Magi are veterans to and the victors of 3500 years of continual war is not going to quite compute with them until well after it is too late. Things are far from as rosy as they seem, and will only get more gritty as the story progresses. That is one thing that I don't think I conveyed well in the original, and intend to do better in the rebuild.

I hope this better explains things. Stay tuned, the next chapter is definitely going to wrap things up in Mendel.

**END Block Quote from Necroblade's Reply**.

Thank you one and all for the continued reviews, support, questions, and pointers. Keep 'em coming, as I shall continue the insanity :P

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The Gripe Sheet:

No complaints from the last chapter. W00t!

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Footnotes:

(1): **M**ass **E**vacuation **F**irst **R**esponse manual. A three day training course for Magi personnel on what you do when responding into areas that have suffered mass evacuations or mass casualties (from chemical or biological weapons).

(2): Under my modified BT rules for ace pilots, a pilot with certain skills can use direct fire weapons (autocannons, MG, lasers, beam weapons) to intercept missiles. The ace rules will be better explained in another time.

(3): Vampires is an air force reference to incoming antiship missiles.

(4): Isorla (from Battletech, Clan English) literally translates to 'The Spoils of War'. As the Magi use the term it falls pretty much under the same usage, but the difference is significant from the Clan application of the principle. It will be gone over at a later and more appropriate time.

(5): Hessian Systems is a very large, influential Mega-Corporation inside the Magi and New Moon Empires, performing many manufacturing and service tasks ranging from manufacturing thread spools all the way to Warship Armor Plating, providing restaurant staffing all the way to interdimensional cargo transport, and many tasks or products in between.

(6): There are three classifications of artificial intelligence entities among the Magi: Construct, which are programmed from the ground up, Upload, which is the core consciousness of a living being uploaded into a computer to serve as an AI (the AI for the Mjolnr is an Upload), and AC-AI, which stands for Almost Complete Artificial Intelligence, of which the Haros fall into this bracket. AC-AI have the distinct advantage of being very useful and moldable but taking a lot less physical hardware to operate.

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**Logic and Reason**:

I have no topic readily at hand for the Logic section this time around. Anyone out there, please submit a request for a topic you may need a detailed breakdown on, and I shall write it up in my next chapter.

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**TRO Section**: As this is the first breakdown of the Nazca-class, I will include their TRO in this chapter. Pay special attention to the armor ratings and the mass of the main components (armor, structure, engines), as well as the density of arsenal, and you will see why the Absinthe went through them like a chainsaw. Note that the TRO Text in the Notable Vessels is directed toward a Canon Nazca, not the Nazca as is seen in this chapter.

**AeroTech 2 Vessel Technical Readout**

**Class/Model/Name**: Nazca-Class Destroyer

**Tech:** Mixed Tech / 3067

**Vessel Type:** Monitor (JumpShip Transportable)

**Rules:** Level 3, Standard design

**Mass:** 90,000 tons

**Length:** 255 meters

**Power Plant:** Standard (C)

**Safe Thrust:** 8

**Maximum Thrust:** 12

**Armor Type:** Non-beam resistant plate

**Armament:**  
5 White Shark (C)  
2 Heavy NPPC (C)  
4 Light Gauss Rifle (IS)  
9 Rotary AC/5 (UK) (C)

**Overview:**

As the war with the Earth Alliance dragged onward, the improvements in enemy naval technology (specifically the use of the Agamemnon-class battleships in larger numbers) forced ZAFT's naval engineers back to the drawing board to produce and deploy a faster, more cost-efficient warship capable of carrying Mobile Suits into battle with the express purpose of being more survivable in a protracted naval engagement and carrying the same amount of Suits. Thus was born the Nazca, named after an ancient tribe of natives from Peru on Earth.

**Capabilities:**

The Nazca-class weighs in at 90,000 tons, which is only 5000 tons greater than the Laurasia it was intended to replace, but the ship itself costs less than half of the construction price of the latter with comparable combat performance in practice.

The engineers achieved this price difference by focusing more on speed and maneuverability than making it a floating gun platform. As repeated battles with the Earth Alliance proved in practice, the ships firing at each other often times turned out to be the final blow in a naval engagement, whereby most of the assault work had already been performed by the Mobile Suits carried in the fleet. As such, the only effective capital-scale weapons carried on the Nazca-class are a pair of 120-centimeter high energy beam cannons, the remainder of the weapons are light and medium point defense weapons for eliminating Mobile Armors that get too close to the ship.

Though the ship carries five silos of cross-range capable missiles, and these missiles are commonly usable against both point targets and enemy ships, in common practice the missiles are normally reserved for use against mobile armors when a large swarm are attacking the main body of the fleet. As long range bombardment these missiles are not frequently considered a usable option.

The main trait of the Nazca is its speed. Compared to the Laurasia-class, the Nazca is literally double faster than its sister class and is even a third faster than the newest and heaviest of Earth Alliance battleships, the vaunted and much feared Archangel-class. In practice, using this speed advantage has made it difficult for Earth Alliance ships to escape a well-laid trap conducted by the Nazca fleets and renders what possible maneuver options fleets have to be moot, since if pressed too hard a Nazca can retreat faster than an enemy can pursue

In pure defense the Nazca beats out any Earth Alliance ship except the Archangel, dedicating 387 tons of armor across all facets of the smaller and heavier ship's frame, providing excellent protection against ballistic and missile hits. This armor is capable of resisting all but the heaviest hits from Alliance space torpedoes, though provides far less protection against beam weapons, which were not considered a major threat to the ship during engineering the armor. Missiles carried by the Drake and Moebius armors are almost incapable of damaging a Nazca except when fired in volley.

The Nazca, as its predecessor class the Laurasia, has berth for six Mobile Suits and typically launches with a full hangar. These suits are deployed by the forward catapult one at a time, and all six can be launched in just under three minutes. Typically the ZGMF-1017 GINN class of Mobile Suits is deployed on the Nazca, though this can also be changed up to include the ace mobile suit ZGMF-515 CGUE for cases where an assigned pilot has one of these more rare and powerful high-mobile suits. Later in the war these ships were outfitted with six of the latest ZAFT suits, the much-feared ZGMF-600 GuAIZ, giving the ship terrible striking power against any classification of target, be it ship, mobile forces or fortification.

If the ship has any one weakness, it is a marked lack of capital-scale weapons for use against other ships. This can be exploited by a small number of enemy ships with higher firepower per ship, so long as the Nazca ships cannot bring their mobile forces to bear against the enemies.

**Battle History:**

The battle history of the Nazca is mixed, though leaning more toward a successful carrier platform than the record of the Earth Alliance equivalents. In pitched battles, the combination of high speed and maneuverability has lent credence to the tactics under which it is used, and the mobile suits it carries are as devastating to the enemy ships as they were at the beginning of the war. The only failing it has as a class is the inability to go toe-to-toe with the Archangel class ships, which may be the only saving grace for the entire Earth Alliance navy.

During the Battles of Yakin Doe the Nazca acquitted itself well, easily being the equal or better of multiple Earth Alliance ships in both survivability and carried assets. The only time it was seriously in jeopardy is when facing down three to one odds or greater, and that only against such ships as the Nelson or Agamemnon classes. Against the Drakes and against a few Mobile Suits of the Earth Alliance, this ship was hardly at threat. So good was its performance overall that the Nazca continued to be the primary ship and manufactured accountment of the ZAFT navy even through the whole of the second war, which ended late in CE 74.

**Variants:**

Only one notable variant of the Nazca exists, which was deployed late in CE 73 as a final protective measure for the PLANTs. On this ship, a new system of Quantum Fernels was deployed for use against incoming nuclear weapons and their carrier craft, whereby the weapon, codenamed 'Neutron Stampeder,' would cause the missiles to detonate prematurely. This also had the side effect of causing the missiles inside the carrier warships to detonate, which destroyed the ship due to the effects of a nuclear weapon detonating inside a ship. Of the actual missiles already in flight, though detonated they caused little damage to enemy forces.

(Author's note on the Neutron Stampeder: This is a completely bullcrap weapon system. Nuclear weapons do not detonate spontaneously, even when acted on by an outside force. Only by a very specific internal process that can only be disrupted by outside force, not initiated by outside forces, will a nuclear weapon detonate. The physics are completely against the Neutron Stampeder ever working in practice. That being said, I am not going to write up a variant TRO of this version.)

**Notable Vessels & Crews:**

Vesalius (Captain Ades)  
The Vesalius served with distinction during the first war. As the flagship of the Creuset Team, the Vesalius was involved in the incidents surrounding Heliopolis and its collapse, which actually was a covert strike to steal or destroy the Earth Alliance prototype ship Archangel and the five prototype Mobile Suits being constructed illegally there. It was also involved in the subsequent battles at Artemis, the pursuit of the Archangel, and the battle that ultimately destroyed the Earth Alliance eighth fleet. It was later engaged in direct (not pursuit) combat and sunk outside Mendel early in CE 72 by the ship it had ruthlessly pursued into the atmosphere of Earth, the Archangel. Captain Ades was killed in action during its final battle.

Voltaire (Commander Yzak Joule, Captain unknown)  
The Voltaire served as the flagship of the Joule team. Despite his transgressions late at the end of the first war, Yzak Joule was granted command authority and assigned a team. His ship first saw carrier action during the 'Break The World' incident in which a rouge group of terrorist Coordinators attempted to render Earth uninhabitable by dropping one of the continents of Junius Seven on the planet below. The ship itself would not be involved in combat until much later in the second war, where the Joule Team would sortie in defense of the Eternal against their own forces to stop Chairman Durandal's attempt to use the Requiem Cannon against targets on Earth, which would have had massive implications and casualties. The Voltaire is assumed to have survived the end of the second war, but this is unconfirmed.

**Deployment**

Nazca-class ships are deployed as Laurasia-class ships are: workhorses. They are used for every naval role possible, from assault to pitched battle to garrison. Their higher speed factor makes them ideal for pursuit and flanking attacks, which is a tactic used by enterprising commanders more than once.

**BATTLETECH SPECIAL RULES**

The missile tubes on the Nazca are considered VLS tubes and as such are cross-range capable. The missiles launched from a Nazca may attack a target in any direction to the ship at a range up to the maximum range of the missiles.

The armor plate on a Nazca is considered anti-kinetic only. When resolving attacks from energy weapons, all damage against the armor is doubled. Damage is considered standard against the internal structure.

As with the Laurasia, if all players agree they may opt to launch Mobile Suits from the Nazca into the hex immediately forward of the Laurasia, with a velocity one greater than the Nazca in the direction of the launch.

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Class/Model/Name: Nazca-Class Destroyer

**Mass:** 90,000 tons

Equipment: (Mass)

**Power Plant:** Standard (43,200.00)

**Structural Integrity:** 215 (19,350.00)

**Safe Thrust:** 8

**Maximum Thrust:** 12

**Heat Sinks:** 338 Double (0.00)

**Fuel & Fuel Pumps:** 5,000.00

**Bridge & Controls:** 225.00

**Food & Water:** 100 days supply (61.00)

**Armor Factor:** 519 Non-beam resistant plate (C) (387.00)

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Armor Value **(Capital Scale)**

**Fore:** 98

**Fore Left / Right:** 86 / 86

**Aft Left / Right:** 86 / 86

**Aft:** 77

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**Equipment & Options: (Mass)**

Cargo: Bay 1: Mobile Suits (1+1) (6) with 1 door (900.00)

Bay 2: Cargo (1) with 4 doors (4,500.00)

DropShip Capacity: 2 Docking Hardpoints (2,000)

Escape Pods: 21 (7 tons each)

147 Crew and Passengers:  
20 Officers (18 minimum)  
80 Crew (43 minimum)  
10 Gunners (10 minimum)  
12 Bay Personnel

* * *

**Weapons & Equipment:  
Loc SRV MRV LRV ERV  
Heat (Mass) **

5 White Shark (C) (50 msls)  
Nose 15 15 15 15  
75 (2,600.00)

1 Heavy NPPC (C)  
FL/R 15 15 15 15  
450 (6,000.00)

2 Light Gauss Rifle (IS) (64 rounds)  
FL/R 2(16) 2(16) 2(16) 2(16)  
4 (56.00)

1 Rotary AC/5 (UK) (C) (120 rounds)  
FL/R 2(20) 2(20) 2(20) --  
12 (32.00)

1 Rotary AC/5 (UK) (C) (120 rounds)  
FL/R 2(20) 2(20) 2(20) --  
12 (32.00)

1 Rotary AC/5 (UK) (C) (120 rounds)  
AL/R 2(20) 2(20) 2(20) --  
12 (32.00)

1 Rotary AC/5 (UK) (C) (120 rounds)  
AL/R 2(20) 2(20) 2(20) --  
12 (32.00)

1 Rotary AC/5 (UK) (C) (120 rounds)  
Aft 2(20) 2(20) 2(20) --  
6 (16.00)

1 Lot Spare Parts (5.00 percent) (4,500.0)

TOTALS:

583 Heat

90,000.00 Tons

Tons Left: .00

* * *

Calculated Factors:

**Total Cost:** 201,862,000 C-Bills

**Battle Value:** 43,152

**Cost per BV:** 4,677.93

**Weapon Value:** 23,761 (Ratio .55)

**Damage Factors:**  
**SRDmg** 607;  
**MRDmg** 566;  
**LRDmg **384;  
**ERDmg** 130

**Maintenance Point Value**: MPV 307,682 (194,357 Structure, 92,500 Life Support, 20,825 Weapons)

**Support Points**: SP 297,010 (97 percent of MPV)

BattleForce2: (Not applicable)


	7. Extraneous Conflicts

(Jokers Wild, Set 1, Chapter 7: Extraneous Conflict)

(21 July CE 71, 1800 hours UTC)

"Whoa, holy shit man," one of the pilots declares.

"You're still alive, Shani?" Oruga asks.

"I guess, or this is Azraiel Hell, one of the two," Shani replies. "Clotho?"

"Ten more minutes and I'll beat that white one, just don't punish me please," the third pilot mutters in a half-daze.

"Whoa, something ain't right here, Oruga," Shani notes. "I don't recognize any of this shit, and I don't feel like I'm wired," he notes.

"Dude, did we win? Did they take us off that shit?" The third pilot asks. "Gamma-Gamma-gammawhatthefuckitwascalled?"

"To answer the questions, gentlemen, no and yes."

"Whoa, I don't remember any of the docs on the _Dominion_ being as hot as you," Clotho says on pure reaction when he sees who he was talking to.

"Dude, you just completely toasted your chances to get anywhere on that note," Shani notes.

"Actually not, Pilot Andras," the Doc replies. "What he said is a helluva lot better than what most of the Marines say when I have to patch them up, then turn around and officially bust their chops for whatever they did to themselves to warrant the medical treatment. And the med staff from the _Dominion_ is in lockup down the hall. The shit they did to you three just became grossly illegal."

"Dude, does that mean we can line up and takes swings at them until we beat their brains out?" Clotho asks.

"I suggest a metal pipe or similar," the Doc replies. "Using bare hands may be more satisfying, but you chance breaking bones, and I don't want to have to patch up broken bones from a vengeance trip, clear?" She had moved to one of the terminals built into the wall and typed a quick series into it. "Gerald Lightbringer, request 3-Alpha is green. Thank you," and she thumbs off the intercom command she had put in. "I think I should warn you, by technicality you lost the Battle of Mendel and were subsequently captured, as was your ship the _Dominion_," the Doc notes.

"And is this the ship that tore a chunk out of the _Dominion_?" Shani asks, remembering that much from the fight now past.

"The _Montgomery_? No. You are on the warship _Mjolnr_, the flag ship for our small fleet."

"See, Shani? Size **does** matter," Clotho replies. "The smaller they are, the better they work it."

"God you're a pervert," Shani replies. "I don't know why I put up with your shit," Shani replies.

"I don't really get what you mean by 'small' in that, pilot," the Doc replies as she moves to the terminals between Shani and Clotho's beds. "The Warships that busted the _Dominion_ were _Montgomery_, slightly smaller than your ship, and _Hyperion_, slightly larger than the _Dominion_. The armor that busted you three specifically, the Neue Ziel Upgrade version, masses more than all three of your machines combined. And for the record, you're going to have to do a lot better than that if you want my attention, Clotho."

"Busted," Shani declares. "Sorry, ma'am, this happens every time he gets around ladies."

"Understandable, so far the Earth Alliance is turning out to be a bit on the shallow side for crew rest and amenities."

"You got that right," Oruga replies. "So, who're you with, ZAFT? Junk Guild? Aube?"

"Wouldn't surprise me if she was, the Earth Alliance couldn't retain nice people like her," Clotho says. "One question, though, why is my body tingling?"

"Oh, the nanomachines I used to clean up the Gamma Gliphectin poisoning to your body are still at work unscrewing all the damage your bodies took from that poisonous shit. Consider yourselves lucky, kids, another year or so and your job would have killed you by default."

"No way, they didn't say shit about that when we took on the assignment," Shani replies.

"Dumbass, they didn't say shit to begin with, they just ordered us to do it," Oruga replies.

"You three may be the strangest fire team I've ever had in here," the Doc replies as she continues her rapid typing on the terminal she was sitting at.

"What, these three have beat out the 'Lima' team from 5-Bravo?" An older man's voice declares. "I didn't think anyone could possibly beat those yahoos out for 'strangest med ward antics'."

"Beat that record, no sir, beat the team out, oh yes."

All three found themselves looking down between their feet at a somewhat taller brown-haired almost-gentleman in a slate gray two-piece uniform. The amount of brass he was wearing definitely made him an officer, and one that had done a helluva lot in his time judging by the various qualification and campaign ribbons he wore. The only thing lacking were medals, as far as they could tell. If anything, he seemed the most stark contrast compared to the doctor they had ever seen.

"You the Captain of this ship?" Shani asks.

"No," he replies. "I am the pilot that took you three down," he says as he drags a stool over from in front of Clotho's bed to in front of Oruga's bed, who was in the center between Shani and Clotho.

"No way, man, you got twenty, maybe thirty years on all three of us," Clotho replies immediately, shocked that some old-fart like him was able to defeat himself so readily.

"That may be the most civil comment I have ever received from someone I whooped ass on," he declares, putting a new face into the play: he was not afraid of the saltier parts of the language. "And I've whooped enough ass to hear 'em all."

"Whoa, why would a mere pilot have so much brass, then? Shouldn't you be commanding something, not—"

"Different society, different rules," he replies. "I do command, I am the fleet second-in-command and I am the combat commander for every fighter, mobile suit and mobile armor in the fleet, but I had to fight my way to get there, rank by rank by rank."

"So, what's your gig? Here to squeeze us for information?" Clotho asks.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he squeezed seven shades of shit out of your sorry ass, Clotho," Shani replies.

"Neg, I have already had my morning exercise and warmups, no need to involve any more people in such, erm, entertainment," the officer replies. The grimace from Oruga was answer enough for all three of them to his comment. "No, I am here to make you three an offer. The Earth Alliance fucked you three pretty hard, I don't know all the details but I do know enough to know what they did was so grossly dishonorable that they need a swift boot to the ass."

"Man, you got that right," Oruga replies, still watching the doctor's hands as she continued typing away at the terminal very quickly. "Wait a second, is she a Coordinator?"

"No," the officer replies. "I am, though, when you get down to technicalities on the art of Coordinators. This is not a ZAFT ship, however, if that is what you are getting towards. We are someone totally different from ZAFT and the Earth Alliance."

"Aube or Junk Guild, then," Oruga replies.

"Zero for two, pilot. Care to go for double jeopardy, where the scores can really change?"

"Wait, wait a second," Shani replies immediately. "If you're not ZAFT, EA, Aube or Junk Guild, then who the hell are you guys? Those are the only people that have Warships!"

"There is more to Existence than just one world and the few governments it holds, Shani Andras," he replies deadpan.

"No way, you can't be aliens, you look perfectly normal human!"

"I never said anything about aliens, good Gods you jump to conclusions way too fast," the officer replies to Clotho's immediate accusation.

"Same world, different timelines," Oruga replies immediately thereafter. "It's a staple of some of the stories I read in my downtime. Dimensional crossing, the people of one timeline of events meet the world of another, hugely different timeline. Am I right?"

"God that is cheesy shit," Clotho replies before the officer could.

"He also got that 'cheesy shit' right on the money," the officer replies. "How'd you guess that one so quick?"

"Your ranks, ribbons insignias don't match anyone on this planet, something about the Doc here makes me think she's not human, for all that she looks like a couple of the others from Extended Training, nothing in this med bay matches anything I've ever seen before in common use, even the stool you sit on is significantly different from normal, your speech and gestures are different from most," Oruga replies. "Should I go on?"

"One's definition of normal can become skewed under the right circumstances," the officer replies. "You are correct on all accounts, though I suggest you don't pry on the Doc's case."

"Understood, sir," Oruga replies as the doc apparently blushes, looking somewhat away from Oruga. "What are you asking, sir?"

"First off, any of you three feel any ration of loyalty for the Earth Alliance after what they have done?"

"Sir, you line them up and I'll kill each and every one of them barehanded," Shani replies.

"And I'll count and sort the bodies how you want 'em stacked," Clotho adds after a moment.

"Jesus, save some for me you lousy bastards," Oruga replies.

"Okay, Oruga can stack 'em," Shani corrects after a moment.

"Wow, you three even sound like a real team. So, that being said, how would you like a shot at the bastards that did this to you?"

"Who do we have to blow for that chance of a lifetime?" Clotho asks without thinking about it.

"You can save the blowjob for your lover back home," the officer replies just as sharply as Clotho asked. Shani had a good snicker at his teammate's expense for the retort. "Unless I find cause between now and 0500 hours tomorrow, you three get the first shot of any locals at joining the Magi Touman. Once the doc releases your sorry asses, we can talk about your Trial of Position. If you are half as good sober and cleaned up as you were high on this Gamma shit, there may be a future for you busting the Earth Alliance. Sound good?"

"Mister, you just made a friend for life," Shani replies.

"Oh yeah," Oruga replies.

"Three friends for life," Clotho corrects immediately thereafter.

"Excellent. We'll discuss pay and benefits at that time. Just, keep in mind that the Doc only falls under the 'medical' side of the benefits, not the 'personal relationship' side unless you can convince here you three are not complete assholes."

"Well, stick a fork in that idea," Clotho replies, figuring his chances already completely dead.

"Eleven hours, kids. I suggest all three of you get a lot of rest. Trials of Position are not easy."

-x-x-x-

(22 July CE 71, 0005 hours UTC)

Natarle had been granted the opportunity to change back into her Earth Alliance uniform, fresh from the laundry service on this ship and even without a hint of bullet holes or blood on it, so that she could face what she expected to be her tribunal with dignity and honor. The last part of it was fitting and adjusting her hat, which sometimes did not want to fit right...

"Ready, Commander?" her Marine escort asks. This one still had the full arsenal of at least one tank gun, two weapons she suspected were energy weapons, pistol, assault rifle, very large assault rifle and grenades, but no shield. Natarle had come to the conclusion that the Marines that did not move much were the ones that carried a shield inside the ship, but the lugs on the left forearm of her armor suggested she could mount one easily.

"I hope I am," Natarle replies.

"I will warn you, the Star Admiral can be an unsettling person to deal with, even by our standards. I respectfully suggest you play it level, and you may walk out without losing a chunk of your butt in the process."

That was both less than endearing and somewhat reassuring to her. If all she lost was a chunk out of her butt, she was not going to complain too loud.

"Thank you, I am ready," Natarle says.

"Head forward, right turn," the Marine orders, since there was little indication of which side was forward or reverse without being accustomed to the ship.

The scale of the _Mjolnr_ was mind-blowing to Natarle. Nothing the Earth Alliance had even came remotely close to how big this ship was, or how powerful it was feared to be. She had learned much from the rather talkative Marines in her med ward and thereafter her cell block, they were rather open and not afraid to admit that the ship she was now prisoner on was over fifteen times larger than the _Dominion_, and her ship would be recommissioned to the _Mjolnr_ as an escort Monitor to be added to their fleet. What the purpose of that fleet was nobody had really said, but one thing was for sure, they did not like either side of this equation, ZAFT or the Earth Alliance.

The march from the restroom to the appointed location was surprisingly short. The Marine had her stop at a door, nearby a blast door at the end of the hall that was guarded by four of the Marines, two with shield and two without. With a press of a button on the door controls, the Marine declares: "Star Admiral, I have Captain Badgiruel as requested." The door in question had a simple placard on it, nothing ornate:

'Stateroom, MHW-6428 Mjolnr  
Star Admiral Wayne Centara, Fleet Command  
Century Commander Gerald Lightbringer, Mobile Forces Commander  
Star Commodore Mike, Monitor Commander

Strategic Officer Calamira Weste, Strategic Analysis and Information'

And the thought of the ship's registration number, 6428, made her cringe in abject terror. The ship was supposedly almost twenty times larger than the smaller of the two ships that tore apart the _Dominion_, and if this ship in all its old age was number 6428 of the fleet, even counting half attrition due to the supposed war they fought long ago, that was still a hellish amount of these ships in service.

"Enter," a voice orders from the far side through the door speaker. Before the Marine tripped the door, Natarle realized that she recognized the voice as being the officer that had inquired about her before the Doc discovered her awake.

The door slid open with something resembling an electrical whine of a ram actuator. Natarle entered first, followed by the Marine. "Please remain at station outside, Marine," the Star Admiral notes.

"Aff, Star Admiral," the Marine says before she steps backwards twice to exit the stateroom. The door closed behind Natarle, leaving her alone with the Star Admiral and one other officer that she had not seen before nor could guess about.

The Stateroom she stood in was impressive, to say the least. Easily triple the size of the equivalent room on the _Archangel_ or _Dominion_, she could sense just as easily as see the room had history. There were many books in the book-racks on three of the four walls, but just as much the room had some pictures and preserved pieces of triptych, including a sea naval boat anchor that supposedly did not come from the ship...

Natarle must have focused on it too much; "That was a terrorist hunting operation," the unknown officer notes. "One of their organizational leaders had put out to sea minutes ahead of the Marines chasing him. With no artillery or air available, the Marine officer called for any fire support available to take the ship out. This warship, in orbit around the planet, was the only unit capable of taking the shot, and it did. That anchor was found six kilometers inland from the shoreline nearest where the ship was, it had landed in a cow field and scared the herd into a stampede. The ship's operational officer at the time bought the anchor off the ranch owner at market price for the herd he mostly lost."

"Please, have a seat, Captain," the obvious Star Admiral requests, gesturing to a chair. The oak desk he sat at showed some signs of abuse and subsequent repairs, but for the most part appeared to be secured to the floor so it would not become a thousand-pound wooden device of death. Behind him, three flags stood at poles, two with symbols that could naught but be some kind of symbolism for governments that Natarle had never known, the third was a hammer held vertical in a mailed fist, with two lightning bolts crossed behind it. It took her a moment to connect the name _Mjolnr_ to what she was seeing, the hammer of Thor, Norse God of Lightning.

"Thank you, Star Admiral," she replies as she sits down in the offered chair.

"Let me begin this by saying that I have no intention of charging you or the bulk of your crew with any form of war crime or other offense at this time. Your conduct, though serving of foul ends, was by the book and thus warrants no retribution. Certain persons on the ship but not necessarily of your crew, however, will be charged and dealt with as is required."

"Understood," Natarle replies. "If I am not going to be charged, sir, what is this about?" Natarle asks.

"By now, I gander you have realized we are not technically from this planet, despite the fact that the origin of our group can be traced back to another instance of Terra," the Star Admiral begins; "We have been briefed in on the circumstances surrounding the war and its history, however we have not come to understand the psychology of one of the main players of this war: the Earth Alliance. That being asked, I need to make it clear that I do not expect you to divulge classified information. I have already gone through the _Dominion's_ logs and databases and have appended that intel to the master database on this ship, my concern is simply understanding the 'why' of the war, if you follow."

"I do not, sir, at least not readily," Natarle asks, realizing that her response could be considered reverse digging under the right circumstances.

Apparently he did not consider her response to be reverse digging, or possibly did not care. "More than discipline, crack troops or the best equipment, psychology and objective wins or loses the war. If you fight a war with an unattainable objective, you cannot win the war as initially defined; Nazi Germany, World War 2 is the perfect example. If you fight the war with the wrong mindset or the wrong set of core beliefs, then you are doomed to failure as well. Same century of Terran history, Vietnam War, classic example of how a crippled mindset fails to hold out against a clear, determined mindset, and this despite the amount of casualties the Vietnamese took in that war."

"I know these wars," Natarle declares, quite shocked that somewhere their history coincided with what she knew. She was only partially correct in that assumption. "I understand what you intend now, Star Admiral."

"Break the psychology, bleed the navy, render impossible their objectives, the war ends of its own volition," he clarifies, which was a little more distinct than Natarle had understood.

"And what happens if the objective of the war is the psychology?" Natarle asks. "The pretense of the article of war—return the PLANTs to sponsoring state control—does not apply any more. Azraiel is proof that the Earth Alliance is not out for control any more, they want the PLANTs broken, destroyed if necessary." Natarle only afterwards realized that while she considered this a strange but somewhat entertaining debate also was breaching policy on Earth Alliance conduct. She could not determine if this was by maneuvering their intent, or if it was coincidental and their question was sincere.

"The equation changes, in that case," the sub-officer replies. "Since the psychology is straight hatred, there is no breaking that in normal practice. The effective method to render an end to the war becomes to destroy the navy outright, thereby rendering their objective impossible, and force the issue aggressively at the negotiating table once they realize they have lost their outright attempt to annihilate the PLANTs."

"You would stand in the way of this war, knowing full well it has nothing to do with you?" Natarle asks, clearly shocked of what she was hearing.

"That depends entirely on how you define 'nothing to do with it' Captain," the Star Admiral declares coldly. "First off, were you in my position, would you be able to live with yourself, knowing full well you had the ability to bring the war to a screeching halt, and did nothing about it?"

Natarle dodged: "Do you seriously believe one ship can stop the war?"

"After having taken the measure of the best ships and personnel on both sides of this war, yes, I believe this fleet is more than capable to the task, more so with the assistance of the _Archangel_, _Eternal_ and _Kusanagi_. And you dodged my initial question," the Star Admiral concludes.

"This is insane," Natarle replies.

"Corruption makes justice look like insanity," the sub-officer replies in kind, though not with the frustration of Natarle's tone.

The thought came to her that these people, beyond being from some alternate-history timeline of earth, were themselves so far removed from normal expectation that Natarle applying the same logic as anyone else to them was coming back with multiple logic errors. Either they weren't adding up in the head, or what logic she was operating under was failing to compute, or perchance both. _Corruption makes justice look like insanity_, her mind echoes of the sub-officer's comment, then immediately dismisses it. 'Corruption' in this case would assume that a government had no innate authority over its citizens and rightful territories, including colonies. Unless...

"Do you...really believe that?"

"I take it you are referring to the question of whether or not the PLANTs should have the right to independence or should continue to be possessions of the states on Terra?" the sub-officer asks.

"How did you...know?" Natarle asks.

"The bent of your question, in following with the silence after my prior, leaves only question as to our ability to wage the battle and win, or a question as to how far sovereignty goes when wagered against the rights of a dissenting group. As far as we are concerned, when a group dissents in the face of obvious humanitarian, political, economical and militaristic depredations on the part of the state, then the state has forfeited its right to govern those persons who dissent. Simple solution, the PLANTs walk but under treatise to pay back the production costs of the PLANTs to the sponsoring nations and not a C-bill more. The two sides coexist separately UFN, end of story."

"A government exists to protect the people but is not at the beck and call of the people, otherwise there would be anarchy from the differing views," Natarle replies, though even her own words sounded hollow to her.

"At the end of the day, the state commands only by the consent of the governed, Captain. Our own history is rife with instances of this principle, most of them being before the 700-year anniversary of our government, and we have watched countless times as it was repeated on planets, in nations we had no control nor influence over. If the state goes off the deep end, the people will correct it," the Star Admiral comments not unfairly. "Still and all, we have veered way off course here."

"From purposes of war to the right of governments to rule, that is not too hard a leap of imagination," the sub-officer declares. "Regardless, to better answer your outstanding question, Captain, we will stand in the way of this war. First, we can do it and survive it. Second, any moral person would see these events and decry them, if not themselves try to stop the war. Third, for us to even chance going back to our native homes, we cannot garner the necessary material and personnel while a shooting race war rages on around us. Fourth, no matter how bad it is now, left alone it will only get worse, so sayeth Murphy, so shall it be (1). Answer enough?"

"I think so, sir," she replies.

"One last question, Captain. The present Lunar Fleet Admiral, William Southerland, were he able to use nuclear arms against the PLANTs, would he?"

That was a fairly easy question for Natarle, since she knew he was a member of Blue Cosmos and wasn't giving anything away since there was no way they would get nuclear arms working with N-Jammers everywhere. She had no idea how wrong she already was, much less could be. "Yes, sir, he would do so without hesitation."

"Thank you for answering our questions pertaining to the psychology of the EA Navy. You will be released back to the Earth Alliance at the conclusion of hostilities, as you have thus far shown us no cause to hold you further."

"Thank you, sir," Natarle replies immediately.

"Dismissed." the Star Admiral called in the Marine to escort her back to her brig cell.

-x-x-x-

(22 July CE 71, 0200 hours UTC)

"MedTech Aina reporting as requested, Star Admiral," the intercom to the stateroom declares.

"All right, Gerald, we definitely got more than we need and gave up the info on our list of things to give up. That should be it for now."

"I have some training to do, then I will be out of cycle for a few," Gerald notes. "By your leave?"

"Please do, thanks," Wayne replies. He was getting tired, but this was it for him for the day. Complete this one last process, he could finally go to sleep.

"Your turn, Doc," Gerald declares after he steps out of the Stateroom.

After a fashion, Wayne expected what he saw when the Doc entered. She looked like she was about to shit the classic brick, which in all reality would be the normal reaction of anyone else about to go through what Wayne had to do. Only difference was, the result that would come out of this discussion was so far removed from what she assumed that she had nothing to worry about. Wayne had no intention of shitcanning the project she was part of, especially since it had turned out better results than even he dreamed possible.

"Please take a seat, Aina," Wayne requests, which she does in a very conservative manner. "Just to be clear about this, Aina, I will be recording this conversation, however I do want you to speak freely. Much is at stake here, and much shall be at stake courtesy of this at a later time. Understood?"

"Aye, sir," she replies meekly.

"Ai, please begin recording," Wayne requests.

"Ready now, sir," the Artificial Intelligence Entity replies.

"This hearing is on the operational results of Magi Operations Experiment 2-Sierra-Lima-1-1-dash-Xray-Alpha-0-2-Alpha, Magi operations pertaining to the permissibility of independent Androids following the construct programming model with a minimum learning curve to enter civilian pursuits or the Touman. In the absence of the program framers and testing personnel, I, Star Admiral Wayne Centara, shall complete the final program phase and make determination due to the fact that one of the program test subjects is part of my ship's crew and the ship is entirely cut off from the Empire, both by way of Jump transport and Hyperpulse Generator. Present Empirical date is unknown at this time due to loss of contact and timing pulse from the HPG network, Lima date and time 22 July Cosmic Era Year 71, 0200 hours UTC Terra time."

"As per project requirements, the final phase of the program shall be conducted by the authorized person and shall also be supervised by the Ship's AI entity," the Artificial Intelligence entity notes audibly, presumably to add that to the recording. "Identification number Alpha-India-0-0-0-9-4-5-8-2, Upload-class Artificial Intelligence entity, formerly Star Captain Janie Trickios of the Magi Bladesmen Combat Engineers officers, WIA 17 September SL-384 and uploaded 19 September SL-384 prior to being declared physically KIA 19 September SL-384." There was a moment's pause, then ; "This conversation is being logged as Secure Project Log number 8-9-4-2-8-2-4-0."

For Wayne, the details on the Ship's AI were something he had not looked up for the simple fact that he did not want to offend her, and he did not want to know how senior she was to him. By reverse beer math (and even the thought of beer make him want to be elsewhere), she was easily over twelve millennia his veteran in total operations experience, some of which would have been the most brutal operating in the Quyarter War and Operation Thunderbolt. After a fashion, Wayne made a mental note to call upon her judgment more often than he was, since she had definitely seen a lot more of Existence as a disembodied AI than he would ever see.

"Please state for the record your identifier and core active times, Aina," the AI requests.

"Project Xray-Alpha-6-0-2-Alpha, Subject 0-5-9, Artificial Construct Intelligence Entity number Alpha-India-2-7-5-8-3-0-5-9, entity name Aina. Enrolled as Ship's Duty MedTech on Warship Mike-Hotel-Whiskey-6-4-2-8, Magi _Phalanx_-class Warship _Mjolnr_. Time active since initial activation command given to core AI entity is 14 months, 18 days, 6 hours and 42 minutes. Core active time not including downtime charging or core AI maintenance is 9 months, 27 days, 5 hours and 44 minutes. Personnel-interactive duty time accounts for 52 percent of core active time, non-personnel-interactive duty time accounts for 21 percent of core active time, personnel-interactive non-duty time accounts for 18 percent of duty time, non-personnel-interactive non-duty time accounts for the remaining 9 percent of core active time."

"Please proceed, Star Admiral," the AI Entity concludes.

"Very well, getting down to the nitty-gritty of the project review, Aina, how would you relate your experience operating as part of the crew of the _Mjolnr_, in terms of how easily it was to mesh into the crew and conduct yourself as part of the ship's staff, to include combat duties as necessary or required of your chosen position."

"Sir, I would have to declare it a moderately difficult task, and one that is not so easily framed as the question would make it. One of the founding principles of Artificial Intelligence is a programmatic equivalent to human or similar complexity, to include thoughts, emotions, reactions, judgment and instinct. From interacting with and learning from the crew of the _Mjolnr_, which I am led to understand is far from a true gauge of the various entities in Existence, I have learned that even within a relatively homogeneous group the variability of conduct, personae, whim and aim can be so expansive as to grossly exceed the original programming variables by at least three hundred percent and as much as a thousand percent."

"So, you are saying that under the original program specifications, when compared to a cross-section of even military society, any Androids produced under the program spec would be very similar in comparison?"

"Under your comparison, Star Admiral, two of the Project's Androids would appear extremely similar, almost to the point of any personality difference between them being trivial when compared to biological personnel."

"Noted. For the record, how would you suggest the program be modified in operational practice to correct this lack of variability?" Wayne asks, which was an off-the-Procedure question and all three knew it. Aina was beginning to get the sinking feeling about this review...

"Sir, the original program specification included a small variability, ten percent plus or minus numerical variability of core traits built from twenty personae phenotypes widely accepted among Magi psychologists. If truly random results are to be achieved, I.E. the Androids produced under full scale production were to appear to be real people and not simply clones of each other, one of two outcomes are recommended: one, the variability is increased by no less than sixty percent, or two, eliminate the phenotype bases and use completely random generation of core personality traits."

"And which would you recommend?" Wayne follows up.

"Star Admiral, I would have to defer that question to the Ship's AI. I do not have enough data from interactions to properly answer that question with sound judgment."

"Ai?" Wayne asks.

"Judging response now, sir, one moment," And then the 'elevator' music started, though much like the rest of the crew the AI had a serious attitude and the music in play was _The Final Act_ by Mushroomhead. Wayne found the minute and change of song he got to listen to not that unpleasant, but quite a bit heavier than the average among Magi. No doubt whatever entities reviewed the project records millennia from now would consider this to be something of a crazy intermission. "Sir, it is my best judgment that the phenotype system be retained to help maintain the stability of the AI entities thus created under the project, due to the possibility of severely conflicting core programming in the Constructs should a full random system be used. However, I also venture to opine that the random variability of the Phenotype system should be increased to 1500 percent variability above or below the present variability of the Program to better match the variability of persons within the Empire and specifically within the Ship's Crew. Though a near result can be obtained, there will never be a complete digital equivalent to a biologic sentient's personae variability, even under a full random generation. Maintaining the Phenotype system at least assures a modicum of AI stability."

"What that normal people were that stable," Wayne replies, meaning several things at once and feeling them all. "Very well, the responses from Aina and the Ship's AI have been acknowledged and will be considered the official response to the first requirement of the final phase. Wait one while I read through this section," Wayne declares as he reads over the next phase of the project requirements. Immediately they were not to his liking, as any normal lady would rip his face off and nail it to the prow of the ship for asking a mere third of what he was supposed to ask. "As is written of the project requirements for the second phase, when wagered against normal officer and gentleman's conduct, I cannot follow the stock procedure in this case, as such conduct would both dishonor myself and infuriate any normal person subject to such invasive questioning. Therefore in place of this series of questions I will make an open-ended request in following with the first phase. Aina, how would you relate your experiences in developing personal bonds of relationship, be they association, friendship, or more involved personal relationship. You may keep your answer as succinct as you wish, or you may divulge detail as you see fit," Wayne orders.

Aina's answer was more than a few moments in the coming, as likely she had to rebuild her answer due to the fact that Wayne had just thrown out the stock question on grounds that he could not readily ask her if she had been sleeping with someone (just as one example among several of the phase-two questions).

"Sir, I would have to answer this question as a limited answer only due to circumstances, and that answer being a positive outcome. Building associations and professional relations within my chosen tasking was not a difficult task beyond any other difficulty enmeshing with the remainder of the crew, and one that benefited myself and at a guess those personnel I work with as well. Going strictly on judgment, I was not able to build many friendships in the relatively short operating time I have had in the project, less than five to be exacting, though such an answer is strictly a judgment call based on criteria that may or may not be suspect. In terms of more involved personal relationships, I have made no such advancements as per my core personae limiting such activities at a basic level, however options are available should events overcome those minimum thresholds."

"And that adroitly answered my next two questions, being whether or not any possible friendships may become more than friendship, and whether or not any more involved relationships might lead to a permanent relationship. Is there anything else you wish to add to this present line of consideration, Aina?"

"Only that the program variables were initially written in to be inside what would be a more conservative range of conduct for persons, Star Admiral. From Project notes that I had accessed prior to our cutoff from the Empire, it was the intent of the project administrators to limit such conduct to avoid situations that you speak of—more permanent relationships, to include romance, outright devotion or marriage between an Android an another entity."

"And what is your judgment or opinion on this, Aina?" Wayne asks out of a combination half curiosity and half professional obligation. Being thorough was a requirement before such Androids were put into production, after all...

"Sir, permission to speak freely?" she requests.

"Granted and henceforth required in this hearing, Aina, if you have been operating in a limited fashion," Wayne replies.

"It is my judgment that such restrictions are a gross waste of the super-emotional capacity that is the hallmark of this project series, Star Admiral. As per the project guidelines, X-A-6-0-2-A is considered the final testbed for the Emotional Recursive Systems, which itself is the final evolution of nearly twelve millennia of sentient emotional research and application to AI entities. Yet, by the project guidelines our emotional response is capped at a low level in some things and almost completely disabled in others. Comparing the wide variety of human response to similar situation, it is my judgment that the ERS module is a 99.8 percent duplication of human response to such stimuli and that any limitations to the system effectively cripple the validity of the system at both an operational and a purposeful level."

"So, effectively you are opining that under the present restrictions, you might as well not have the ERS installed and active, correct?"

"Aye, Star Admiral," she replies.

"If I may venture an opinion, Star Admiral? As both a present Artificial Intelligence Entity and a former living, sentient being, that is," the Ship's AI begins.

"Indeed, please do so," Wayne requests in response.

"The intent of the Project Administrators was to prevent a moral yet real breakdown of personal, biological-to-biological relationships that would otherwise result in the continued expansion and prosperity of the Empire. In this fashion, an AI entity could not thus become a replacement for relations with an opposite-gender biologic being in society, despite the capacity and the allure of this project for a full range of emotional response, and therefore the continued existence of the Empire and its persons is somewhat assured barring outside variables. Following present Magi technology standards, it would not be possible for a biological-Android marriage to produce viable offspring, except in extremely limited and extremely complex modifications well outside both the scope of the project and nominal operational practicality. In saying so I mean no offense to the judgment of Aina, but those restrictions were put there for purposes that were well understood by the Administrators and that any modifications should be weighed with the utmost gravity, Star Admiral."

Wayne had to fight hard to not laugh at the course this conversation had gone: just like any conversation with normal people, this one was now so far into the gutter that the sewer was looking inviting at present. Not that he doubted for a moment this was the logical outcome of the conversation, but it was still humorous to him and very much a requirement of these deliberations.

In classic showing of how decisive the Centara could be, Wayne sighed and took in his own council to weigh the presented data from both sides. "Ai, at present technological standards among the Empire, what is the minimum expected material production and maintenance requirements over and above the project nominal requirements should such options be pursued?"

"Calculating now," the Ship's AI replies. Elsewhere in the ship, more than a few of the crew noticed that the main server was taking its time to respond for a few moments, as something was eating the processing capacity heavily. The drain lasted over 30 seconds, then: "Sir, the minimum production requirements per unit would increase as much as 30 percent in time and 5 percent in material for males, as much as 60 percent in time and 20 percent in material for female specimens. Maintenance requirements for both units remain the same until such a time as reproduction is initiated, in which case special considerations have to be in place for both genders of units to enable the process as well as allow for a viable offspring. At the minimum, both genders have to be fully nanotech-enabled and regulated and maintained internally, which is something that was not part of the original parameters of the project."

"Effectively, though, were this ship to go about setting up the Project for full production, I would expect the production units to be nanotech-regulated as a matter of course," Wayne replies. "This beckons the question: at the technological standards of our ship and the known or inferred technological standards of the world we are now victim to, is this a viable continuation and modification of the project parameters?"

"Negative, Star Admiral," the AI replies immediately ."From a resource, sciences, materials, political and social standpoint this modification is impossible to sustain. The fact that a Eugenics facility exists in this dimension and has produced a viable product—the Gundam Pilot Kira Yamato—is a serious stretch of resources, skills and luck for the local populace. To attempt to run an Android program with such a program instilled would be nearly completely impossible to sustain with any predictable successful outcome. It is my recommendation that such a decision be deferred for no less than 30 years, to allow for both expansion of the local populace, the quelling of unrest or states of war between local persons, and the advancement of several key technologies in materials sciences, biochemistry, eugenics, and changing strata of political sciences."

Wayne was silent for several moments, digesting this information. "Very well, your judgment is heard and noted, as well as the standing opinion of Aina. At this time, it is my operational recommendation for the Project that the restrictions placed on the ERS be reduced significantly but not completely wiped out. In following with the judgment from Phase one of this review, much more can and should be done to allow for wider variability and better interaction with persons whom the Androids come into contact with. At a later time this shall be reviewed in light of standards and practices of those times and shall be reviewed with an eye towards further modification of the program."

"Very well, sir," Aina replies, bowing to practicality for this one. The Empire may be able to do it, but if the project was to be implemented locally they could not waste valuable resources on giving her the chance to have a child, and she understood this at several levels. Another day was another story, though, and she would look forward to that day.

-x-

(22 July CE 71, 0220 hours UTC)

Calamira likened the feeling she was getting from someone else to the classic sensation of a moth drawn to a bug-zapper: part anticipation, part dread, part thrill of exploring, part embarrassment of not having a clue where she was going. Someone, judging by base mental pattern it had to be Cagalli, was lost in the labyrinthine corridors of the _Mjolnr_, which was not a difficult task. The ship had as much as forty kilometers of corridor and access paths built into the five-kilometer-long hull, and each corridor had a distinct purpose or routing, but it really took a long time to get used to where you needed to go for where you needed to go.

After Calamira emerged from the bathroom, finding Cagalli was simply a matter of looking toward the stern of the ship. She was walking slowly toward the end of the corridor, looking back and forth and attempting to get some bearing. She stopped in front of a mural as Calamira approached, then looked at the large fresco painting in question. "Grr! They have hundreds of meters of artwork and battle scenes per corridor, and not one damned directory of where to go to get to a restroom," Cagalli gripes to the massive scene from the Ship's Remebrance of the Fourth Skirmish of Twycross (2).

"You just passed one," Calamira declares from a meter behind Cagalli. Despite the latter being a solder, the way she immediately jumped with a quick screech, then spun on her to give Calamira the evil eye, was entertainment enough for her. It only lasted a moment, though, as Cagalli was quick to realize who she had just been spooked by.

"Oh, Calamira, what're you doing down here? I thought you stayed," and her finger waving in the direction of the bow was conclusion enough.

"Rescuing the lost," Calamira replies sincerely. "I can sense when people can't find their way, it is rather unique an aura that people give off."

"Let me guess, it's even more 'unique' when the lost person is not afraid to be loud and obnoxious?" Cagalli asks.

"Restroom's right there, when you're through I'll give you a guided tour of the gun decks and some other points of interest in this area," and Calamira indicated a door that roughly separated one battle scene from the next, said scenes were not part of the scene that Cagalli was griping to.

For Calamira, it was a little bit of a waiting game as she looked over a scene of The Final Line – which was a bit of an interpretation of the battle of Ragnarök that was foretold in many circles. Calamira found herself questioning the belief after a fashion, though like most she did not question the lead-up to it, the remainder of the Norse mythos. Where the interdimensional theory gave an infinite amount of possibilities for technological procession, it also gave an infinite amount of possibilities for non-technological procession, and the Magi knew well of this. Millennia of bouncing around parallel of dimensions had led to a lot of very bizarre encounters, as had the founding of the Empire itself...

"That was insane. Why don't you mark things clearly?" Cagalli asks as Calamira had slid down the corridor, looking at a picture of a concert that she could not recognize. Silently Calamira made a note to inquire about it at a later time.

"Simple battle logic. If a boarding force can't tell where they are going, it becomes easier for the defending Marines to bog them down and prevent the loss of the ship."

"Oh," Cagalli replies in an almost-squeak.

"Besides, training and orientation covers all the can locations and other points of interest for one's job, the Marines do the rest." And even outside the main corridor there were a helluva lot of Marines available, standing sentry and patrolling. The sound of their armor echoed up and down some of the corridors of the ship at any given time as a pair of Marines moved under arms but without shield to keep the peace and ready to repel boarders. Cagalli shivered at the thought of what one Marine could do to a whole squad of unarmored infantry, much less those that she had worked with in the Desert Dawn.

"So, what's interesting around here?" Cagalli asks, meaning it. Calamira had come to understand real quickly that Cagalli was definitely not the typical teenage lady, she actually liked looking around the inside of a Warship, liked big machinery and dealing with people who were not afraid to do violence on the behalf of others.

"Well, we have the gunnery stations, a Marine Barracks, one of the Mobile Armor bays, and the Club 300, a rather infamous bar, dive and dance hall. Take your pick."

"Can we skip the Marines? Last time I was in one of their barracks I almost became part of a fist fight."

"Can do," Calamira replies. "Ever seen the gunnery stations on this ship before?"

"No," Cagalli replies. "Why would you need gunnery stations for the weapons? Shouldn't the computer control the guns?"

"Yes and no," Calamira says as she walks to a hatch against the wall. She inserted her codex into a keypad panel and punched in a six-digit number that unlocked and opened the hatch in the floor. "Down ladder!" She says down the hatch as she waves for Cagalli to go down first. Despite her prior comment, she eagerly climbed down the honest-to-Haumea ladder and into the tight corridor that ran along the side of the ship to several gunnery stations.

"Mind explaining to me why you'd have all the guns manned?"

"What happens if the main FCS gets blown to hell? Someone has to do the shooting," Calamira says as she climbs down the ladder herself. Despite her position, Cagalli was impressed that a clear bridge-bunny like Calamira had no problems maneuvering around the tight confines of the gunner's alley.

"Oh, that makes sense, I guess," Cagalli replies. "Still, if that much damage is taken by a ship, does shooting really matter?"

"When surrender means the enemy is just going to execute you for being in their way, dragging a few more of them to hell for the ride along with you is always a plus," Calamira replies. "Gunner, which station we at?" Calamira asks as she stops at a station with one guy.

"Three-Papa-four-four, quad of ER Large Lasers," the gunner (a lady that looked both smaller and younger than Cagalli) notes. "Somethin' up?"

"Inspecting the gun stations," Calamira half-lied.

The scene looked like something out of an antiquated sci-fi film, at least in Cagalli's opinion. The gunner sat in a mobile pod chair looking at a yoke with various controls on it and had several banks of consoles around her that had instruments that Cagalli could only guess at what they measured. The setup was almost as complex as the cockpit of an M1 Astray, of which Cagalli had trained in and could use reasonably well, but being in an otherwise immobile unit shooting at enemies zipping by at impossible velocities did not thrill Cagalli in the slightest. How they managed was beyond her comprehension, but the fact that this was a laser turret probably made things easier for at least this gunner.

"How's your equipment holding up? Any repairs needed?"

"I was having a problem with—ah, damn it all, here it goes again," and the Gunner climbed slightly out of the pod and delivered a swift side kick to one of the consoles. The gauges had all zeroed on it for some reason, though with the application of the combat boot they all creeped back up to what showed to be nominal readings. "And that's pretty much it for this station, the next one down off-and-on loses connectivity to the ball turret he's supposed to control."

"Mind if we take a round at the Guns for a few?" Calamira asks judiciously.

"Sure, go ahead, be my guest," the Gunner declares as she climbs out of the pod chair. "I could use a quick stretch," she concludes. "Whoa, ma'am, didn't realize it was you," she says as she realizes who she was speaking to.

"You want the first go?" Calamira asks Cagalli.

"I'll watch first, I'm not really familiar with these kinds of things," Cagalli replies.

Calamira ducks into the chair and dons the headset, then flips over to the training frequency. "Training, this is 3-Papa-4-4 requesting a practice round, over," Calamira requests.

"3-Papa-4-4, I read your practice request. What'll it be, gunner?"

"Give me a round of target tetras if you have any available, over," Calamira requests.

"Roger that. They'll be in your vicinity in ten seconds. Time the match like usual?"

"Negative, Training, this is command structure, testing some old skills right now," Calamira replies judiciously.

"Roger that, Officer, good hunting and good luck," the Training Officer notes as the first target shows up on her screen.

"This is where it gets interesting," Calamira declares as more of the drones begin showing up on the holographic target grid that represented her field of coverage. There was a highlight cone that showed where her systems were looking, and Calamira swiveled it onto the first drone almost on reaction.

Cagalli was amazed with the complete simplicity of how well Calamira locked in on the first and fired a single laser at it, followed a half-second later by another. The first one missed by what looked like a mere meter, the second one struck the drone dead center and caused it to cook off in a fuel fireball. Without much in the way of visible effort, Calamira swiveled her sights and chair to look at a pair of the target tetrahedrons coming in higher than the first and immediately tracked in on it.

"Lead it, Commander, it's too far for a 1-to-1 shot," the Gunner declares. Indeed, putting the sight over the target resulted in a miss by just a fraction, but giving it a half-meter lead solved that problem and resulted in another explosion. "Good shootin' ma'am!"

"If I may ask, how old are you?" Cagalli asks the gunner. Her uniform had the nametag 'A. Hopewill' on it.

"Fourteen and change, why?" the Gunner asks.

"And how long have you been doing this?"

"Six months in basic, almost two years now on the ship," the Gunner declares. "I'm newer than the best in this line, but I'm not the worst in this line by a long shot."

"Think you can do this one, Cagalli?" Calamira asks after having eliminated half the androids.

"God, and that was without using the FCS?" Cagalli asks as she steps up to the control pod with trepidation.

"Each station has its own targeting systems. Using boresight in a combat situation is damn near impossible, ma'am, things move way too fast to track right." the Gunner declares.

"I'll try," Cagalli says as she sits down in the incredibly comfortable pod and adjusts the gun yoke to her height and reach.

"Just remember, don't fight the controls, move with them," Calamira advises. "It's the same principle as Mobile Suit warfare, only you are stationary and the target is not."

_This is going to be tough_, Cagalli grumps inside the confines of her mind. She did not realize she was nervous enough that Calamira could hear her thoughts without trying.

-x-

(22 July CE 71, 0220 hours UTC)

"And now, Phase three of the Review covers any physical concerns you have with your body structure, subsystems, or any other physical components of the project. If you have any outstanding concerns or possible improvements, I would like to hear about them," Wayne notes.

"Oh, I actually have several complaints to air, sir," she replies after a moment.

"Please do," Wayne requests.

"First, and this is probably the most embarassing component of the project, there is no active infrastructure for physical component maintenance. Those few mechanical failures I have had I had to have a Mobile Armor tech see to." She did not declare which MA Tech, nor did she declare where, and Wayne was not going to pry on either case.

"Recommendation?" Wayne asks. He had not known about her having to have repairs done, so...

"If the project is going to go forward, a maintenance depot for the Androids would be recommended proportional to the amount in service, sir," Aina replies immediately. "The more like me in service, the more of a distraction we would become to either each other or to the techs from other services. Peak operational efficiency can best be maintained by keeping us out of the way of the other techs' duties in terms of maintenance and repair services."

"Okay, then, if I was to set up a subdivision of the program for depot repair, would a fifty active to one tech division of labor be acceptable?"

"Overkill, sir," Aina replies immediately. "If you go ahead with the program as modified to be maintained by nanotech, 300-to-1 would be about right. Without using nanos, 100-to-1 would be acceptable."

Either which number was a higher ratio of persons to Doctors in Magi society, where the ratio was about 1 Doc to 50 persons. For any number of its innumerable faults, medical care and sciences were not one thing faulted by most outside observers among the Magi. Wayne still thought that the ratio should be higher, but if the mean failure rate among the project was lower than the mean medical issue rate among the biologic contingent of the population, the ratio could be higher and still be effective. Any slack could be picked up by a technician when needed, though, as the skills would be comparable.

"Very well, your recommendation is noted with the advisement that if necessary any strain on the maintenance network for the Project can be picked up by pool technicians."

"Thank you, sir," Aina replies immediately. "My second issue is that there is no real way to sustain operations without some form of charging action between stints. Granted that this is not a huge issue in my case since my job is mostly low-active, but in higher demand pursuits such as technician, soldiery or manual labor duties this will become more of an issue."

For Wayne, seeing a way out of such a problem was easy. The Dendrobium had several drop-tanks of fuel mounted in various locations around its frame, and could be ejected and replaced easily and speedily, even while under combat stress. Setting up the same thing for the Project would be a simple task, Wayne figured, or even interchangeable internal packs.

"That is fairly simply dealt with, and actually I have several theories on how to go about it. I'll have to go over the details at a later time, but this should be an easily corrected issue."

Apparently Aina saw right through the Star Admiral's thought process: "Drop packs, right? My only recommendation is to make such a pack easily concealable as something other than the pack."

"Backpack binder? It could even be used as a modular rail if needed," Wayne replies, figuring now was as good a time as any to hash out the details.

"I would say backpack binder and hip rails would also be acceptable, especially as dual-use equipment like a battery and pistol holster or something?"

"Ai, can you work out some mod specs and methods to get this going? Work out a good array of options with an eye toward long ops duration and hard ops duration, clear?"

"On it, running it at a lower priority, though, the FCS is running some advanced targeting drills. Six hours and I should have some designs."

"And your next issue is?" Wayne asks, enjoying the process of hashing these things out. Somehow the intellectual challenge of it was just as entertaining to him as was the art of naval warfare.

"The same as the first phase, sir. When I saw the other AI units of the project, I know I was looking at something special...that looked very similar from one to the next to the next. Again, I recommend a wider variety of variability in the production models, which would both increase the interactivity of the units with biological persons and make it far more difficult to recognize the base type as being Android based solely on appearance."

"Societal camouflage, basically, harder to tell who you are dealing with is not human?"

"It would serve multiple purposes, sir, but most of all it would allow for the production variants to better become what they are trying to be: another set of beings among the many of the Empire," Aina replies judiciously.

_They may be another set of beings among our last desperate stand_, Wayne thinks sardonically behind a passive mien. _Somebody always says something about playing God at these times, but we Magi have been guilty of that for far longer than this and no God has complained too loud...yet_. Whenever natural disaster or terrorist strikes damaged or destroyed a Eugenics facility, someone always made the inevitable comment, and almost always did it come from either the 'liberal whore' camp or the 'religious bigot' camp, never from the moderate (and civil) religion groups or from the general populace.

"Any further requests or judgments on the subject of physical concerns?" Wayne asks, feeling as though Aina was getting close to exhausting this subject.

"Just one question, sir, if I may?"

"Go ahead," Wayne replies.

"If this does go to full production, would the production variants have access to the latest materials and systems? I know that the test variants for the project were deliberately manufactured to a low-end standard, essentially technology prior to the Star League except for a few key systems that are more recent, but none of my internal components are really high-test equipment, sir. I do not suggest in the asking, I am just curious."

"Regardless of intent to suggest or not, what that amounts to is a suggestion if I have any say in the manner. I hate seeing a person crippled for circumstances outside that person's control, and I will fight for it if necessary. If we ever get home, that is. I do not know what the project planning entailed, but I may have a hand in it to change the matter."

"Understood, thank you sir," Aina replies graciously. "That is the extent of my suggestions or complaints about the physical side of the matter, sir, though I should note for the record that not all my physical features have been completely and thoroughly tested."

"Please submit a testing log to the Ship's AI at a later time for full records. That officially concludes phase three. Phase four is also a dicey one, possibly more so than Phase two. Aina, at this time do you have a more comprehensive understanding of spirituality, reverence, and religion, as compared to your initial activation and programming?"

"Sir, I have a better understanding but as with any practitioner I do not have a complete understanding," she replies immediately. This must also have been an expected question series.

"And you are in understanding of the fact that many if not most people do believe in higher beings or powers?"

"Aye, sir, I do understand this concept."

Wayne sighs. "I do not know why they put this question in there, since there is no definitive answer even by human standards, but...have you come any closer to knowing or understanding a possible divine being than you were at the beginning of the project?"

Her answer to this one was over a minute in the coming, and Wayne could tell she was thinking hard about it from her fidgeting. It was another way that the designers of this project had made her appear even more toward Human than else. "Sir, I really can't answer that question. I do not know if I have or have not achieved any closer awareness of God than prior, especially in light of the events surrounding the ship. I cannot tell if this is a curse or a blessing, these turns of fate that have brought us here, or a curse or blessing unto the people of this world. All I do know is that if we don't act, no less than millions will die, and maybe even up to the whole population of the Earth Sphere. Could that be construed as the will of Fate? I do not know, and for me to say either way would be a gross assumption on my part, and likely a dishonorable one at that."

Wayne sighs again. He was actually expecting her to come down on one side or the other, not declare herself undecided. That, in and of itself, made her veritably more human than human, and Wayne could not overlook that. It made her almost the perfect being ever made not from the morass of biological process, and maybe even a step closer than the average biologic, since she knew her faults, her limitations, her whims, desires and misunderstandings and readily accepted them all. Such conduct was a damn sight better than the average Human, much less other beings in Existence.

It also made his next decision that much easier. "For the official record, as of right now I am adding a fifth phase to the project. Due to special circumstances that have placed this ship well outside the bounds of authority, influence and support of the Empire, I am now exercising command authority over this subsection of the project on the assumption that our findings will not be returned to the Empire during the expected lifespans of any beings in this room. As of right now, this division of the project has been subsumed by the command structure of the _Mjolnr_ and any derivative formations or governments, to include procedures, records and entities. Is this understood?" Wayne asks, knowing well that experiments like this always had a clause that when the shit hit the fan they would be turned around and used for their purpose, regardless of whether or not the rest of the project was shitcanned tomorrow. And legally he had the authority to make it stick.

"Acknowledged, Star Admiral," the AI replies.

"Sir?" Aina replies in a bit of confusion.

"Aina, as per Phase Five of the modified project, under your present judgment, knowing full well that it may not be possible for you to return to the Empire to complete your life cycle as a prototype to the Project, would you consider it possible to use available means and materials to this ship to begin alpha-stage full production of Project 2-Sierra-Lima-1-1-dash-Xray-Alpha-0-2-Alpha using yourself as the base model for the full production models, with reasonable modifications as already discussed in prior sections?"

Aina's reaction was classic, though Wayne did not expect it. First the shock, latent from Wayne taking command authority over the project due to emergency circumstances, then the confusion of the question itself, followed by instant elation as she realized what he meant. She did settle down after a moment, but the joy was still there, Wayne could tell. "Star Admiral, if you are going to deploy the project now, then I would recommend that you do so immediately to take advantage of the fact that my data is not yet complete. By deliberately giving the Androids a learning curve before their interaction data can be sufficiently considered 'normalized' you provide the best learning curve for the production models to adapt to the changing environment and needs of the other beings they come into contact with."

"I concur, Star Admiral," the Ship's AI replies. "By forcing the learning curve Aina speaks of, the greatest chance for stability is presented as well as the ability to adapt to their chosen task properly. In an emergency situation this can be circumvented with an upload and amalgam of prior hive experience on the duties, but this is not recommended. The art of learning provides the best bonds with the remainder of the crew and the best experience overall."

"Very well," Wayne replies. "If I am understanding the process correctly, it would appear that what you are thinking about wiping out of the initial packaging process would be the accumulated interaction matrix and interaction experience, but to retain the interaction understanding subset, which would allow the new entities to better understand the depth of the interaction but still force the building of new interaction sets and experience?"

"That would be my recommendation, sir," Aina replies.

"Very well. As of right now, I am authorizing the allocation of scrap material from salvage and stores to be deployed to the nanotech systems to begin the manufacture process. Aina, you are hereby ordered out of service rotation to conduct downtime maintenance to allow yourself to be uploaded as a base image for reproduction into production models but are to resume service after your base image has been uploaded and your physical structure has been modified as discussed. Is that clear?"

"Aye, sir."

"Get to it, Aina. It has been a pleasure, and shall continue to be."

"Sir, it is an honor," Aina replies before she stands, comes to attention, and turns smartly to leave. She stops just before the door, though: "Star Admiral, one thing I believe I should clarify before I leave," she begins.

"Go ahead," Wayne replies.

"If you had asked the stock question from Section Two, including the questions on sexual intercourse, I would have not considered it an affront. It was something required of the project, nothing more and certainly not anything personal."

"It is good to see you can distinct between duty and personal matters, Aina, but keep one thing in mind as you go forward from here on out: your life is your own, and you are under no obligation to share it as ordered when ordered. Believing that such personal affairs are fair game to your command structure is an open invitation to the invasive, socialistic paranoia that has destroyed countless nations, societies and worlds. Respecting the dignity and honor of the person is the hallmark of a proper, just society, and though we are military and discipline is a requirement, honor is paramount, yours just as much as mine or anyone else. Clear?"

"Aye, sir,." Aina replies immediately.

"Report to me when you are active again. Dismissed." Without another word she was outside the door and it closed shut.

"Attention all hands, this is the Ship's Jester. I have only one thing to declare, and that is BEER!"

"BEEEEEEERRRRRR!" Wayne could feel through the hull itself as a very significant portion of the crew returned the declaration.

"This keeps up, Captain Ramius may declare us clinically insane," Wayne grumps.

From the AI, there was no response for over a minute: "Star Admiral, Initial production run planned will be three, estimated activation time will be in 24 hours. I am setting it up so that you have the only authority to activate the new production models at this time. What are you planning to do once we start producing more?" the Ship's AI declares in the intervening silence.

"They will all have their choices, much as the other production units did," Wayne replies. "For now, these that we produce will have only a few choices available to them, but we need the crew and we need the mobile forces in deploy. Best you inform Gerald that his forces are about to start getting new recruits of a most unusual kind. If he has any complaints, I want to know about them right now."

-x-x-x-

(22 July CE 71, 0330 hours UTC)

"One question, Calamira, and I want a straight answer to it," Cagalli begins. When Calamira did not respond, she continued, "Did you plan on embarrassing me with that?"

"Definitely not," Calamira replies in an injured fashion. "You did better than I did on my first try at a gunnery station, Cagalli. As much as it took you to get the last one, I think the trainer turned the difficulty up on you a few notches. The Trainers can be assholes like that sometimes."

"You say so," Cagalli grumps. They had entered one of the Mobile Armor bays on the port side of the ship, where four out of the ship's 200 total Mobile Armors were lodged for transport, one of them undergoing repairs. Two of them she easily recognized, the mainstay of Magi mobile armor combat, the Dendrobium Orchis. One she did not recognize, but it did have a silhouette similar to what an old Tricorn hat from somewhere in Europe would look like; the two large beam cannon barrels at the front of the unit were answer enough to its deadly purpose, despite being about sixty percent of the size of the Dendrobiums.

Then there was the fourth unit that occupied a very large and wide cubicle almost four times larger than the cubicles for the Dendrobium. The size and sheer menace of the armor was enough to give Cagalli another of the cold chills she got frequently. "What...is that thing?"

"Which one? The small one, or the really large one?" It went without saying she already knew about the Dendrobium.

"The merciless Ghost of Zeon," one of the nearby pilots for the said unit declares. "MA-08 Big Zam, a space-use anti-ship and anti-fortress Mobile Armor. The Zekes only built one, and they used it impressively, but they made one mistake with it: they tried using it to stop the White Devil without support. Oops." The pilot sounded rather unsympathetic about it. "Because of that, the Zeon lost their best Admiral, and effectively the war at that point."

"All that remained of the One Week War after that was the screaming," another of the unit's crew declares from the gantry above them, looking down to the two lady officers. "Because of Zeon failures, we have several inventive units we use and a good tactical book to use them with, mainly by correcting their screwups. When the Big Zam deploys, it is always with Aerofighter or Mobile Suit escort and sometimes with a Warship in close proximity to make things even nastier for the enemy. No lone Mobile Armor to be picked apart with ballistic and missile weapons."

Cagalli noticed something about the crew officer that came out of the barracks for their MA as well as the one that was above them. "Wait...wait a second, are you like fourteen or something?" She asks the crewmember above her.

"Close, fifteen, why?" the crewmember replies immediately. "Our port-rear gunner is fourteen, almost fifteen, why do you ask?"

"Calamira, how much of this ship's crew is below age?"

"That question is a slippery slope, Cagalli," Calamira replies immediately. "Keep in mind that age standards, education, and operational necessity are far different among Magi than they are in Aube, the PLANTs or even the Earth Alliance. Compulsory education only goes as far as age twelve, though we do more and more effective basic skills in those years than most school systems can do up to 18 years. I was in a Military Academy by age 8—when it was discovered that I was a more powerful Psion than the average among the Strategic Psionics. I've been an active-duty Ship's Psionic over half my life, the Big Zam Gunner above you has been doing his job for three years now—an early graduate from the schools on his home planet."

"This is nuts. You start at twelve?" Cagalli asks in a severely accusatory fashion.

"Or earlier if circumstances warrant it. After basic schooling, specialist schooling, college, technical academy, military are all available options," Calamira replies.

"Different society, different rules," one of the mechanics at the nearby parts degreaser declares. "You're conditioned to think you can't really figure it out until you're sixteen or eighteen. By the time I was sixteen, I had already done four years of Tech Academy and was fixing LoggerMechs for forty grand a year," the Tech says as he pulls the part out to inspect it, then dunks it back into the degreaser. "You may think you're hobbled in one of several ways until you're 'of age' but the average person can do better if society conditions and allows them to do better," and this time on inspection the part was clean enough that he could work with it properly.

When the mechanic moved away from the degreaser, there was a placard on the wall with a most unusual phrase, something she did not expect to see in a repair bay: 'kuyashisa wa chikara ni kawaru', which roughly translated into 'Regret turns into strength' if Cagalli remembered her Japanese right. Most of what she had been taught focused on English, the de facto language of Earth nowadays and almost the guaranteed language in space. After a moment of trying to discern why such a prolific statement would be in a degreasing bay, she tore her eyes from it and centered back on Calamira, who was looking down the launch bay toward the blast doors at the end.

"I keep expecting normal things...I probably should not, right?" Cagalli asks, wondering why Calamira would be staring down a launch alley.

"You have every right to expect normalcy, but you will probably not find it on this ship. This is as normal as this ship shall ever be, a flying fucking joke wrapped in twelve thousand tons of armor." It was Calamira's turn to sigh before going on: "As this drags on, things will only get crazier until they get better."

"At least I have been warned," Cagalli replies. "So, this armor can be used against fortresses, what would the smaller armor be used for over there?" and she indicated the one that looked like a very large Tricorn hat.

"That is used as Mobile Intercept, for taking down masses of enemy Mobile Suits and Fighters."

"With two weapons?" Cagalli asks the Strategic Officer.

"Close," Cagalli replies. "Three weapons: the two Mega Particle Guns on the unit can easily rip apart most small targets and seriously damage anything else up to Warships. The third weapon is the pilot's mind, which controls either twelve Bits or thirty-six Funnels, depending on the variant of the Elmeth. Remote weapons, like the Gunbarrels that Commander La Flaga used on the older Moebius Zero unit. Each bit or funnel has its own beam weapon that is similar to the beam rifles used by the GAT-series suits."

"That one armor is probably more effective at controlling a large area of space than the Big Zam, but nowhere near as effective at destroying larger units as the Big Zam," The Big Zam's pilot notes.

"Isn't it worth more to take out Mobile Suits than the ships?" Cagalli asks fairly.

"The hell of it is, it doesn't matter to me," the pilot replies calmly. "One MS in the wrong place can cause a helluva lot of damage. One Warship can cause a helluva lot of damage regardless of where it is. I count my unit's kills in naval terms, not the little crunchies that I kill by the dozens, but when the shit hits someone has to take 'em all out."

"Are you going to try to take them all out?" Cagalli asks warily.

"As many as it takes," the pilot and Calamira declare at the same time, in the same tone. "None more, but none less," Calamira finishes up. "As you were, pilot," which served as an impromptu dismissal.

"Aye, ma'am," the Officer replies before he begins the task of rounding up his apparently unruly crew to get the Big Zam moving.

"Big Zam Two is readied for deploy, all hands prepare for Mobile Armor deploy," the intercom in the hangar declares.

"Best we get out of here, we would only be in the way. We can observe from the pilot's lounge," Calamira declares.

As they were leaving, Cagalli watched as an even smaller crewmember mounted the Elmeth in a modified version of the Magi Pilot's Armor.

"All hands, Elmeth Ten will be launching in zero-three minutes. Big Zam Two, you are cleared to taxi at this time, may the Fates watch over you on this sortie," the intercom blares before the two enter the pilot's lounge.

Cagalli could feel the tremendous shockwaves through the floor as the Big Zam walked out of its cubicle, turned right, walked to where the centerline of the launch bay was, and turned left to head out to the pressure lock.

"You're right. This isn't normal, Calamira, not the weapons, the people, the history, none of it. We've never had to live such horrid wars. A week ago I thought we had it rough with the PLANTs and the Earth Alliance trying to kill each other off, but Haumea help us all if we ever get to the point of war equivalent to the Magi and the Negaverse."

"At that time, there will be no help from any Gods out there, Cagalli. That is the great lesson of the Magi: we fought, long and hard, year after year after year, in the hopes that we could walk away alive. We did, but we lost so much. Wars of that scale, wars of annihilation, are always God-forsaken nightmares and it is our job to prevent repeats."

-x-x-x-

(22 July CE71, 0600 Hours UTC)

"This ain't gonna be fun, he beat our asses hard last time," Oruga notes.

"This is supposed to be easier, though," Clotho opines weakly. "He's not giving us 'his A game' he said."

"Even his worst is better than us all," Shani notes bleakly.

"Oh stop whining and prepare to launch," Oruga replies. "We'll win, we can actually find our asses with both hands this time. We were so drugged up last time..." he let the sentence trail off deliberately.

"If you can find your balls with one or more hands, pilots, this should not be too hard for you," their Flight Controller notes. Rather surprising to Clotho, the Flight Controller had administrative command over them and was only a year younger than he was at a guess.

"Err, let me check," Clotho replies. "Oh, balls found, ready to launch," he says as his left hand visibly moves back to the throttle control.

"By the by, if we're supposed to get a 500 C-bill bonus for winning this contest, what do we do with it? I don't think I can use a C-bill downtown in Washington City," Shani asks.

"Or in Aprilius City," Oruga notes.

"The ship has a PX facility down in Sector Four, and there are numerous converted cargo bays and holds that are now restaurants, bars, and even word of a casino somewhere in here." She hesitates for a moment. "Tell you what, if the Century Commander doesn't take you out for a round, I will at the Club 300 after everything is said and done, sound good?"

"Oh hell yeah!" Clotho replies. He had snuck a shot of whiskey from the Program Administrator's secret stash on a dare, and though it had ended up being rather painful he had no bad reaction to it. And supposedly these Magi fellows were masters of mixed drinks, though he was as much interested in the Operator as the grog.

"Don't get the wrong idea, pilot," the Operator replies tersely. "I have a small set of standards and I play by them."

"Damn," Clotho replies after realizing what she meant. "Time limit?"

"I'll explain later," she replies a bit softer. "Raider, Forbidden, Calamity, report ready status," she orders a bit louder.

"Forbidden, ready for launch," Shani replies.

"Calamity, Ready Op," Oruga replies immediately thereafter.

"Raider, let's do this," Clotho requests.

"Please proceed to launch locks and prepare to deploy," the Operator orders.

In the hangar, the crew chiefs all gave them a wave out with lighted batons as the marshalers began leading them to the docks without running each over or stomping important equipment into the hangar deck. One by one they were led out into the short-length catapults inside the five-MS Airlock attached to the bay, then positioned on the catapults and locked in to launch. The Marshalers cleared back through the doors and closed the dock behind them.

Holograms came up and showed the depressurization status as the air in the lock was rather speedily pulled out of the lock in preparation of the primary door opening. "Ever get that feeling that what you're doing is fucking crazy?" Shani asks calmly.

"What? Joining these bastards so we can beat the shit out of the Earth Alliance and hopefully kill as many of them as possible? That ain't crazy, that fucking rocks!" Clotho replies.

"I get the feeling we're going to get shot at a lot by both sides," Oruga replies. "After all, standing in the middle of the road means you get hit by traffic going both ways."

"Fuck it, I say," Shani replies. "We were dead either way, might as well enjoy it."

"I think we'll win," Clotho says. "Nobody expects the Inquisition to come out of fucking nowhere and whoop three portions of ass in a matter of minutes, which is what this ship is capable of."

"Those Earth Alliance wussies are so dead meat, one of the Gundam pilots on this ship can shred ten of them and not break a sweat," Shani replies. "And I think I can do better. Without getting higher than a fucking kite."

"Gundams Raider, Forbidden, Calamity, launch!" their Operator orders as the catapult was tripped. All three launched in series, one a half-second after the next after the next.

"We do owe the Earth Alliance a thank-you card," Oruga notes maliciously. "They did give us these three beautiful Gundams and teach us how to use them..."

"I got my thank-you card for those asshats right here," and Clotho twitches the Spherical Breaker as indication of what he really meant.

"That's a new one, where'd you learn the word Asshats?"

"Piss parlor, couple of the Mechanics were discussing the Earth Alliance and creati9ve ways to 'deal with' their personnel."

"And you will shortly get a chance to deliver that thank-you notice to the Earth Alliance, but first you must prove yourselves up to the challenge," a haunting voice declares. "Move to nav Alpha and await further orders, pilots," the Officer that had talked to them in the medbay and thereafter orders.

"Aff, sir," Shani replies immediately. "Follow me in, guys, I'll take the heat, you do the dirty work," he says as he brings the mobile shields forward and adjusts his heading for where he was supposed to go.

"I'm in," Oruga notes.

"Gotcha," Clotho replies.

"A little closer...closer..." the same officer taunts over the radio.

"We're here," Shani declares. "Mind telling us what is next, sir?"

"The fun begins now. I am Century Commander Gerald Lightbringer, administrator of this Trial of Position. A successful outcome in this Trial will determine your placement among the ranks of the Magi. Your combat tasking is to eliminate target drones in any fashion possible without so much as scratching the paint on my Gundam. Shoot me or strike me, and the rules of the game change significantly. Understood?"

"Aff, sir, ready whenever you say so," Shani replies.

"Very well, I am waiting at Nav Point Bravo. The clock is now officially ticking. One last thing, pilots, let's see how well you do with some music to the battle, shall we?"

"Oh man," Clotho declares as the bass rumble of a song comes through their speakers.

'_Ladies and gentlemen, welcome...to the FREAK SHOW_!' the song's intro line declares as _Mysteria_ by a long-forgotten band Edguy echoed across the radio band they were using.

"Move in hard and fast," Shani orders over the sound of the music, and much to his surprise the level of the music dropped temporarily while he was speaking, but a quarter-second later came right back up to the heavy level of Speed Metal that he expected. "I like this. You guys really run this during battle?"

"We do more than that, Andras," the Century Commander replies. "We will break the enemy radio encryption and pump this out on their main frequencies, making it impossible for them to coordinate their forces effectively. When it degenerates into an uncontrolled melee, we will divide, separate, crush and win."

"Man you guys are evil, evil savages. Where do I sign up?" Clotho asks by way of reply.

"Approaching target area, those must be the drones. Remember, don't hit the Century Commander, or he'll hamburger our asses," Oruga orders.

"That's putting it mildly," Shani notes as he breaks out the paired railguns on his unit and takes a pair of shots. Two of the four slugs contacted drones and caused them to break apart, one of them fracturing close enough to the Gundam that part of it struck the head.

"You get that one for free, Andras, but avoid breaking them so they hit me from now on," Century Commander Lightbringer orders.

"Get in close on them, they're a lot easier smashing than shooting!" Clotho says as the Raider smashed five of the tetrahedral drones with its claws in a single pass.

"Easy for you to say, loudmouth," Oruga replies as his Schlag long-range beam cannons spoke, four beams fired garnering three hits on drones at a meager distance from the large, white Gundam. A sweeping blast of the Scylla multi-phase energy cannon wiped out another five of the drones, but required some creative maneuvering on Oruga's part to accomplish.

"You're doing good, kids, but I think you can do better," the Century Commander declares. "You've already taken out a third of the drones, step up the killing pace. Oh, did I forget to mention that every third of them you kill, they begin moving faster and more erratically?"

"Oh man, someone turned up the difficulty setting," Clotho grumps as he closes in on and takes a pass at the orbiting drones. Instead of five this time, he only got two and nicked a third that spun out of control and slammed into the Calamity, blowing up on impact because the drones were nothing more than a thin aluminum shell with four thrusters and a crapload of maneuvering fuel. The hit and subsequent flash fire did little to the Calamity except cause a grunt from Oruga. "Sorry man, these things aren't wussie any more," Clotho declares, which only drew another grunt from Oruga.

"Heh, I've got some tricks to use," Shani declares as he switches targeting modes. A single shot of the Hresvelgr plasma cannon arced through four of them at once, followed by a pair of railgun slugs that got one more.

"You and I both," Oruga replies as he fires his Schlag beam cannons to one location, his Todesblok bazooka to another, the Scylla beam cannon to a third location, and the Kaefer Zwei dual ram cannon in his shield to a fourth. Of his single-group volley, he succeeded in eliminating three more, a far cry less than he wanted with a lot more effort and ammo. "Damn, I need something like guided missiles or something," he curses.

"No time to go back for a refit, shut up and shoot," Shani orders as he closes up on Gerald's unit with scythe drawn and slashes two of the drones in three strokes. He killed a third with the 60mm Vulcans he normally reserved only for intercepting missiles, but apparently the quality of Magi ammo made them more effective against armored targets...

"Oh, look, now they get even faster, closer," Gerald Lightbringer declares, and indeed they got harder to target for the three pilots. "Keep it coming, pilots, you're over two thirds there."

"Oh, right, I got this one," Clotho says. "Shani haul back and do some sniping, I'm going in close!"

"Oh shit, Clotho, watch it or we're all dead meat!" Shani orders as he does haul back and engages with his railguns. The targets were now moving so fast that it took as many as six shots to get one hit, which Oruga figured meant they were facing elite pilots in simulacrum.

Clotho launches the Spherical Hammer out on its swing line to a point well past Gerald, then fires up the rocket motor on it and begins swinging it in a massive arc in front of Gerald's Gundam. On the second swing in front of Gerald, the sphere and attached line chopped through three of the drones, scattering their non-exploding chunks all over the place, then a third swing in front toasted another two.

"Holy shit, Clotho," Shani moans as Clotho adjusts his angle of attack to sweep the area behind Gerald next. The first arc caught four, the second arc caught two, the third arc caught one. Only three of the drones remained, and they were really moving now.

"Finish the detail," Gerald orders.

"I got it," Shani replies as he sets his scythe and charges in. One drone remained basically right in front of Gerald's MS, which he took out with a very precise scythe slash at close range, then as the Forbidden went below the flight plane of Gerald's Gundam he fired his railguns and Hresvelgr at the two two remaining drones, eliminating them both in a maneuvering pause.

"Did we win, sir?"

"Oh yes, you won. An impressive result, but I think you can still do better. This Trial is concluded, as of right now you are rated as Veteran Gundam pilots with all accords pertaining thereto. You will return to the ship and stand your units down for maintenance and refit with an appropriate fusion reactor for long-duration battles. Crew Scheduling will issue you a duty timeslot and standby orders. Welcome to the Fleet of the _Mjolnr_, pilots."

"A pleasure, Century Commander," Shani declares. "Now we get to kick Earth Alliance ass and get paid for it."

"Oh, yeah, by the way, you can have the Flight Controller you are assigned to charge the drinks back to me for all four of you. You've earned it, and your suits will probably be down for over a day so getting hosed should be little of an issue for you."

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

A little bit of a walk on the different side for the _Mjolnr_: practice and movement, nothing special in terms of combat. Don't expect these peaceful times to last forever, though, as the war is about to get hot fast for everyone.

I find it strange that despite the few clues I dropped in the prior chapter that some of you thought that the Doctor was Flay Allster. An interesting thought, and I would like to know how you came to that conclusion when evidence pointed to something else. And I hope this chapter clears up an y standing confusion as to what she really is; expect this to play a recurring role in chapters, sets and the overall story to come. I have some rough material to come on that subject, so stay tuned.

The ongoing between Cagalli and Calamira will only get more detailed and wilder, but do not expect any shoujo-ai content there. Both of the said characters have their fates and their preferences, and all of the above will be detailed out in chapters and chronicles to come. Any of you who read my works with frequency should know by now that I am not a pairing fan, I do not write any sort of major focus on main char relationships, but I will give them credit where due. SEED has more than a few levels where such is due and I shall do so, but don't expect this to change course away from the inevitably bloody battle to come.

In terms of the music works that are occasionally mentioned in my chapters, with the occasional song quote from said works, there is a very good reason for that which shall be explained in detail in the Logic and Reason section below. I highly recommend that while reading the section to which a song is quoted as playing, you listen to the song as well to fell the psychological effect thereof. YT is one of the best places to find this stuff, I trust it should not bee too hard to find.

That is pretty much it for this chapter. Next Up: A chance encounter and a supply run with intervening acts of insanity inside the Mjolnr leads to the conclusion that something has to be done to channel the chaos. Thankfully, a solution is at hand...

* * *

Review Replies: Seven reviews for chapter six, an impressive turnout. Thank you ladies and gentlemen :P

**EtienneOfTheWestWind**: Thanks for the review and the opinion on the Stampeder. I have no indication that it is a bluff, but I do have indication that the Gundam producers don't know jack about how nuclear weapons work in space, so my base analysis is that they are operating on bad logic. I will give Sotsu credit where due, but this is not a piece of real estate in that category.

**Knives91**: Kamelot... I think some songs like When The Lights Are Down, The Black Halo, or Ghost Opera may have to make a showing in chapters and chronicles to come. Read up on the Logic and Reason section below, you'll get a crash course in why the Magi revere metal for their duties. Tradition and all that.

**One Village Idiot**: Thanks for the intel, and yes you can expect to see customized units in the next Chronicle of the Jokers Wild series at the least, hard times and desperate enemies call for extreme measures, and I'm not going to spoil any surprises on that account :P

Well, there is now officially a Big Zam on the _Mjolnr_, you can guess what is next. Big Scrap between big units, anyone?

As I dropped in review reply, from an administrative and skillset standpoint the space naval forces would fall closest to the US Navy, but in the end they would best be served as their own branch of forces (as how the Marines are technically a department of the Navy but in reality are their own flag and calling). In Magi terms, all Naval forces are under one Division (there are exceptions) but have separate sub-command structures.

**Deathzealot**: The difference in penetration is where it hit, because Magi armor is beam-resistant by design. The beam from the Duel hit in the heavy chestplates and was not able to penetrate, the beam from Rau hit in the side plate of the upper arm, meaning it was able to penetrate the much thinner armor and get inside the structural components, which are not beam-shielded.

The Haro antics are far from over, and expect them to get downright malicious before they get better. Like Haro meets Fusion Incinerator malicious. (You can probably tell I do not like the CE Haros, right?)

The next chapter of AAA is in the works, no due date at this time.

**Necroblade**: Thanks for the review and the concern about the ice storm, problems attendant to that did not last long.

I will leave any speculation as to Gundam fights in other solar systems and such to the confines of your minds for now, but let your imagination go wild and send me some ideas. Nothing crossover yet, or at least any more so than already is, but when dimension-hopping begins you can expect to see a lot of strange things go down.

Yes, you are right, she loses some of the romanticism behind her position, and the rest is drowned out in the shock and awe the Mjolnr brings, but keep in mind that it is always there and her popularity is not going down, but only up, higher and higher. That fact alone gives her immense influence, even to an extent with the Magi. She will use that influence, but the dice may have some interesting things to say as to how it works out.

And while I am thinking about it, the _Phalanx_-class ships are not the be-all-end-all of space combat, despite the implied scale and nastiness of the ship. There are far worse ships out there, and ZAFT may even design their own in coming Chronicles...

The Marines are far from through, and yet may be the most terrifying of Magi assets in play short of the warship itself. Stay tuned for more very messy antics on that account :P

**Knightowl 4183**: You're talking bad engineering in that case. When designing a Warship, it is typical that there is far more power available to the ship than it will use even under full combat load. If the Earth Alliance is cutting it so close that rerouting power to the sensors would degrade the weapons, that is shit engineering on the EA part and for that I have no sympathy.

I don't get what the rotating missile launchers bit is all about, but a rotating mechanism is not much in the way of useful, since typically missiels are installed in directional or VLS tubes and in either case would have little need to turn. Such a system would be needlessly complicated and as you demonstrate prone to failures that could hamper the missiles.

**Gatomon41**: I hope this chapter clarifies the status of the Doc as not being Flay, but she will factor into the story and she has her own side-story already, but it is farther down the timeline.

The best way I can illustrate the full picture of the Magi is to write it out, and before I can do that I have to clean some of the rest of these stories off my plate or updates on any one thing would take far too long. Rest assured you will get bits and pieces of the history here and there, the relevant facts pertaining to situations, and even some as part of the story, but really that is its whole own work that is infinitely more bloody than any Gundam story wants to be.

I am working on it, but slowly, slowly. I want it done right so it meshes with the presented background here properly, and there will be clues in it that aid or enhance the Jokers Wild stories.

_Thank you all for the reviews, and keep 'em coming. The more ideas I get from you, the better the whole thing gets :P_

* * *

The Gripe Sheet:

None listed, apparently I kept it clean and real. Whoo-hoo!

* * *

Footnotes:

(1): Murphys laws: Anything left alone has a tendency to go from bad to worse.

(2): The Skirmish of Twycross is a series of battles fought during the relatively peaceful Star League Era of the Star Empire history. After the war settled down and the Star League really began taking hold, the navy of the Dark Moon Empire did not want to lose pace or face with the Magi, so they pitched a battle in the space around Twycross in Magi Dimension 2830. Despite the planet having little to no strategic or resource value, the Magi still hammered the Dark Moon forces flat in six hours of protracted battle. This battle was repeated every hundred years or so, leading to the Second Skirmish, Third Skirmish, and farther. It was not until the Eighth Skirmish of Twycross that the Dark Moon was able to actually break even in the battle with the Magi, though the Ninth Skirmish was again a loss for the Dark Moon. There was no Tenth Skirmish, as the Star League collapsed shortly after the Ninth and full war resumed.

* * *

Logic And Reason: The Magi Tradition of Music

Excerpt from the Remembrance of the Magi, Book 2, Chapter 6:

"_The invaders, many to our few, vultures of the_

_Cursed Inner Sphere, come to pick a carcass_

_Not known to be alive and enraged. Their advanced_

_Battlemech weapons and ground vehicles marched_

_Hitherto into oblivion, for they made fouling_

_Unto their own solid battleplans, expecting_

_No contest from the garrison. The blast of gun,_

_Terrible crack of spellcraft rent the 'Sphere undone._

_Yet their fate became manifest as the sound_

_Of battle music and cry of Infantry hound_

_Their souls and minds asunder, unable to see their _

_Mistakes or hear the commands from air,_

_As the echoes of Nightwish steeled the Magi that day,_

_That the Inner Sphere was bloodied in such a way,_

_Nevermore to challenge the Empire._"

Among the military of the Magi, there is a principle of Tradition of Music. As each military has its own traditions, so is it here, but this tradition serves more than just honorary purpose. Used correctly, it is a psychological weapon of immense utility.

The Tradition of Music is a set of listed songs that serve various purposes. Different songs are used for different purposes, pertaining to both combat and noncombat purposes, with the intended effect of providing the trained Magi a psychological advantage. For the most part, such tradition is open-ended and varies from unit to unit, but for a select few taskings the choices are informally considered to be from a certain subset only: Nightwish music, specifically before the lead female vocalist Tarja Turunn was removed from the band. In other aspects, any metal band may be used, or even in some cases a non-metal or even non-Rock group is substituted by the unit's preferences.

The psychological advantages are distinct. First, the use of Metal music for these matters projects a sense of power and being onto the trained listener, giving a mental boost to morale and determination that is otherwise not present in tests. This has been confirmed in several lengthy studies conducted by the Magi, as units without major exposure or use of the Tradition of Music were more likely to fold under extreme combat circumstances. Second, the familiarity of such music can often drown out the sounds and effects of combat itself, delaying the onset of stress and fatigue and allowing the soldiery to fight longer and harder than their competition. Third, it breaks up the monotony of patrol and rote tasking, which helps prevent the effect known as 'the thousand yard stare', inattentiveness that can get a guard or crewmember killed in the wrong circumstances. There are other advantages, though some of them have off-and-on been argued as not advantages or unsupported by evidence.

As a weapon, the Tradition is a powerful shock and awe tool in the commander's arsenal. Magi tactics in using the music are simple: find the enemy radio frequencies, break the encryption, jam them open, and broadcast loud metal music on their carrier frequencies. In so doing, the commander that uses this tactic generates two major advantages for himself. Primarily, the fact that the enemy radio frequencies are bled over makes communication and coordination virtually impossible unless the enemy has a backup method to continue talking. Even the most technical of enemies that have faced the Magi were themselves crippled when their communications went to dogshit courtesy of a broadcast of Nightwish, Disturbed, Static X, or Strapping Young Lad on their main channels of communication. Second, the rebroadcast of music on enemy tactical frequencies is extremely demoralizing to enemy troops, as this provides heavy evidence that the enemy has broken existing encryption methods and frequency spectrums, as well as the fact that the message conveyed by most of the music is itself demoralizing when compared to their outlook for the battle to begin with. Combined with ambush or heavy assault tactics and Magi fondness for fire support, the combination has caused panicked routs in even the most hardened of enemy formations.

The tradition itself stems from multiple historical sources, as the Magi have collectively learned their methods and tactics from foes as far-ranging as the ancient Egyptians all the way to the Clans of Kerensky and much worse. In early days of the Empire, the Magi Infantry noticed that when engaging old-time British Redcoat Infantry, it was possible to reduce the enemy advance speed and cause a more thorough rout by taking out the Imperial drummers, flutists and buglers. In so doing, they also realized that such sounds had an opposite effect when applied to their own ranks: add music, the collective steeling of the unit and morale of the troopers increased significantly. Experiments were run to see how much, and the numbers became shocking quickly: in some cases, morale almost doubled among the troops when compared to equivalent formations in the same scenario. Further testing and methodology was executed on the fly, and in so doing a comprehensive set of guidelines was written up and presented to the General Officers for adoption.

The Tradition would have died aborning there, were it not for the efforts of the Emperor of the Magi. The General Officers, themselves set in ways arcane, read the report and promptly quashed it as it did not fit their notion of proper military conduct to pitch battles to the sound of charged Metal music. At the same time as the reports and findings were shitcanned, Emperor Eric Atrebas was auditing training academies and learned of the studies by way of the Instructors at the academies asking when the Emperor would authorize the inclusion of the music into the Traditions and Training. With some judicious tracking of the paperwork, Eric learned of where the report had gone missing and promptly ordered the Generals to review the report and submit a process plan for implementing it within a week. Faced with clear orders to get the program moving (with a 'RIGHT THE HELL NOW' addendum attached to the order sheet), the Tradition of Music was established and began its long, arduous tenure.

The use of Nightwish as one of the main bands of the Tradition again stems back to the Emperor Eric Atrebas. Prior to the Magi Revolution that became the founding of the Empire, Eric Atrebas frequented a nightclub within which a certain hard-core band Nightwish played for the crowds frequently. As much free speech was squelched at that time, Nightwish was in and out of jail for 'political crimes' but always got out on technicalities when the matter came to trial. Nightwish spent their fourteenth stint behind bars as the Revolution sprung in the Old Capital, and the main Political Prison Bastion at An-Herse was assaulted by the revolutionary squad that Eric Atrebas had become attached to. It would be the future Emperor of the Magi that released Nightwish from their jail cells for the final time that day. The band went on to do world tours for the new military structure after the revolution, and served a long career that solidified support for Nightwish among the military of that day and forever.

Today, Nightwish is revered among the Magi as being the music that inspired the Founding of the Empire, brought heart to the troops and people who suffered under the various manifestations of tyranny, and is considered synonomous among the Magi with absolute honor and integrity for the Empire and its military. To the other five Star Empires, the works of Nightwish brings mixed reactions but mostly leaning toward an immense dread that what is over that hill is a whole metric assload of Magi mayhem and destruction headed right at them.

Until the defeat of the Negaverse Queen Beryl and the expatriated Goddess Hera in the closing days of the Star Empire Wars, owning a Nightwish CD in the Negaverse Star Empire was considered a crime punishable by up to a year in jail and 5000 C-bills fine.

And this brings the question: what shall the Tradition of Music be for the Mjolnr?


	8. The Beer Run And The Joker Card

(Jokers Wild Set 1, Chapter 8: The Beer Run and the Joker Card)

(22 July CE71, 0430 hours)

"It's kind of a strange thing," Calamira notes as Cagalli stops to look at yet another side-corridor mural. "This ship has fought some of the bloodiest battles of the Star Empire Wars, and we're about to start yet another bloody battle, but in terms of total missions and total flight time, the _Mjolnr_ has spent more time doing colonization runs than battles."

"And this is one of those runs?" Cagalli asks.

"Oh yeah," Calamira replies.

"Looks chaotic," Cagalli notes. The form of the _Mjolnr_ itself was easy to pick out in the picture, as was another of the massive _Phalanx_-class ships, though most of the ship's 80 Dropship dock collars were loaded with Dropships of several types and sizes, and there were unarmed Mobile Suits out and about in the picture doing non-combat tasks.

"It is," Calamira replies. "My first tour on this ship was one such colonization run, the _Mjolnr_ and the _Red Adernes_, ferrying almost a hundred thousand to a new planet to begin the process of building a new world." Calmaira drew silent for a few moments, remembering the feelings she had experienced on that run were wholly different than those on a patrol or combat tour, and significantly different from the righteous crusade that was about to be unleashed on the near-space here. " 'Barely-managed chaos' is about what the Star Admiral called that run, but we still managed to get the civvies on the ground and get the workings of a new planet set up."

"How hard is it, for you guys at least?"

"It's work, nothing major. Once facilities are available to make housing, such as a sawmill or stone foundry, the rest begins in earnest. A couple months and the landing site is its own little city, with people starting to spread out radially from there. Six months and all the initial colonists are on the ground, the Dropships are on their way back into circulation. Within a year, most of the infrastructure of a real city is in place and the real expansion begins, but by then regular Jump Service is in place to bring more people to the environs and sometimes pull people away. Within two years, you start to see the first colonies being manufactured and emigrated into. Five years and the planet itself is ready to join the Empire as a full habited planet instead of a periphery colony, though even in colony status the people still get the right to vote. Ten years and the planet is in full swing, industrial and agricultural pursuits are fully up and going."

There was one thing that Cagalli could not get her brain around, so she figured she would have to ask. "Why...what draws people to this kinda thing?"

Calamira took no more than a moment to answer: "Some, the thrill of adventure. Some, the chance to start over. Some, the freedom of walking away. The bulk want the space, want to get away from the inevitable crowding of urban centers and fully-industrialized planets and such. Just you, a plot of land and a set of tools to get a homestead going."

"Oh," Cagalli replies. "I guess that wouldn't work for me then, I'm too much a creature of habit."

"A comfort zone," Calamira replies as they continue walking. "No, there is nothing to take offense to in that, Cagalli. Even among the Magi, polling shows that less than five percent of Magi citizens would actively choose to become a colonist for a new planet. It's not lack of bravery, it is routine. People don't want to change all that much unless they seek change or actively recognize a need for change. And there is a lot of that here: the act of war, terrorism can be described as such, the will of a people to resist change brought upon them by outside parties."

Phrased like that, Cagalli was immediately brought to mind of the Desert Dawn she had served with in North Africa, the fighting at Aube, and now the Magi. Defining who was doing the changing and the resisting, though, became a bit iffy and varied depending on what angle she took in understanding the conflict. After a while she decided that defining the war was too complex. "It gets too complicated, sometimes, defining who is doing what with a war."

"And that is the crux of all war, Cagalli. War is a terrible, complex venture, to be used sparingly and restrained when not needed. Fear, hatred, confusion, misinformation, propaganda, liebenstraum, territory encroachment, humanitarian violations, peacekeeping, a war can start under many pretense, but they all do the same thing: destroy. Getting past that understanding is one of the first steps to mastering the stars. The Magi have been there, and that is why we almost never start a war ourselves."

"But, didn't you fight a huge war yourselves?" it was a thoroughly redundant question, with a pathetically easy answer for Calamira:

"Oh yes, we did. About 3500 years worth of war, to be more exacting. The hatred of the Gods manifest to strike back at those whom they believe oppressed them. Gods, mind you, not normal people, and in so doing they consumed so many lives in the fires of war we cannot ourselves account for our dead, much less any of the other Star Empire. We did not fight because we wanted to. We fought because we refused to be erased from Existence based on someone else's hatred. We paid a terrible price, Cagalli, and understanding what we do now, we look upon the world here and we see millions of people about to be killed based on hatred. A repeat of exactly where we have been before, with predictable persons, actions, results. We cannot let this happen again, that is why we act."

Cagalli was not sure if the thing about the Gods was metaphor or if she really believed it was real, but she was not going to press on that subject. That did not preclude her willingness to follow Calamira from Hell to Breakfast if that is what it took to get out of this alive. Calamira had shown her true skill in a strategic meeting earlier in the day (yesterday, whichever applied) by giving an estimate on nuclear capabilities of the Earth Alliance given several scenarios of technology leak to the EA. She had shown that she could read the minds of Earth Alliance quartermaster officers on the far side of the moon and discern totals of nuclear armaments from those scattered thoughts she picked up. Between her and the Ship's AI (that still freaked Cagalli out to an extent), the picture was fairly bleak.

"Don't bother with Hell, Cagalli. Real estate prices in there are not worth the hassle or the sub-standard neighbors," Calamira says as she stops outside a set of cargo bay doors. "This is much better, the Club 300. Trance, dance and rave club, haunted by every class of personnel in the ship from pilots to mechanics to officers to gunners. You can disappear in here or you can tear up the dance floor, and enjoy it all the same."

If Cagalli thought the music outside the doors was loud, inside was an order of magnitude worse. Still, she did not shy away from the implicit challenge that Calamira and the music and the crowd gave her. She stepped in without much more than a second of hesitation. Immediately Cagalli liked what she saw. The personnel inside, those that actually noticed her markedly different Aube Officer's uniform, did not eye her any more than she expected to be noticed in any military base in Aube. The dance floor itself was packed to people bouncing to the sound of _Eurodancer_, and a scrolling marquis around the perimeter of the room declared the author of the song to be DJ Mangoo. The song was something way too fast for Cagalli to even think about dancing to, but it was not more than a few seconds before her head started nodding to the music.

She followed Calamira to the bar in the facility and waited while the bartender mixed her a drink fairly fast. That accomplished, Cagalli and Calamira headed for the booth rows around the perimeter of the Club, but instead ended up headed upstairs past a pair of obviously dating couples—and one couple that was using the semi-concealment of the staircase to make out.

Upstairs, the sound was quieter but not completely canceled out. The tables were numerous, as was the crowd, but for the most part Cagalli did not recognize them, and more to the point they did not recognize her except as one of the other ship crews from the Three Sisters (as the Magi called them). Calamira led them to a table on the inside of the room, near the heavy plexiglass that looked down from the balcony onto the dance floor.

"What is that?" Cagalli asks as Calamira takes a measured sip.

"Whiskey Sour. A bad habit I picked up from the Galaxy Commander of the Marines shortly after he was transferred onto this ship. His great sin was to challenge his Century Commander on the troop ship he was assigned to, and after being defeated he was docked pay and sent here. That was, oh, about five years ago."

"What's it take like?" Cagalli asks, a bit bewildered. All she had ever heard about whiskey was how much it hurt if you tried chugging it...

"A lemonade with lime and a hint of hickory-smoked flavor to it. It's hard to describe, but it's not all that bad."

"They let you drink?" Cagalli was not about to try, she knew if she got caught Kisaka would tear strips out of her hide, and rightfully so. She was barely sixteen, a far cry from 18, much less the 21 minimum age of her homeland.

"I am 23, Cagalli, 18 is the minimum age."

"Oh," Cagalli replies as she continues to watch the mass of people downstairs bounce to the music. The DJ had to be ramming the tail end of one song into the front end of the next, as the sound was not slowing down.

A two-tone signal came across the ship's intercom, which Cagalli had found out now preceded any announcement from the Ship's Jester. Cagalli found whoever he was to be crass, vulgar, sometimes insulting, but somehow entertaining. The Magi thought he was freaking hilarious. "Attention all hands, Ship's Jester reporting with new intel: recently acquired information shows that dip-switches are trending down and dip-shits are trending up," and there were some laughs on the dance floor, since the DJ paused the music to listen. "Where possible, this trend needs to be corrected with extreme prejudice. Thank you."

"I still can't believe you allow that," Cagalli notes sourly.

"One, he is not harming the matter, two, the AI is in on it so we can't get a solid track on him, three, the crew likes it. No complaints here."

"Much of the Empire's principles probably seem backwards, almost anarchy waiting to happen, but keep in mind that responsibility and honor are taught at an early age. Things start early for people because they are ready for things to start earlier than one would think possible."

"Then what? Too soon too old?" Cagalli asks, frustrated with the thought that she would already be in society, doing a rote job or in the military if she had been born Magi. In point of fact, the same could be said of her life already, but she pushed that thought aside.

"And who said age was a hindrance? The Star Admiral is over forty and still doing well, well, at least as well as one could expect with the thin prospects of this Warship and him being the CO of it. Just because you have a few years on you does not mean you have blown your life, Cagalli. Start thinking that destructive thought and your whole life becomes nothing but a 'coulda shoulda woulda' song, nevermore worth anything except as something to regret."

Even still, Cagalli could see the expression in Calamira's eyes as she said so. The sip of the drink did not fool Cagalli, either. Calamira had her regrets, her soured actions, and her face showed it more than else. "You're regretting something as well, Calamira. What is it?" Cagalli asks in her usual direct fashion.

"My partners are still back home, wherever 'home' is relative to here. I trained in with two other Strategic Psionics, Nerika and Adel, and chances are good I will never sense them again." After another sip of the drink, Calamira snorts loudly. "Consider yourself lucky, Cagalli. Being a telepath is more than it seems. You can't turn it off, and the sound, the echoes of other people's minds, it is addictive. Shitcan whatever sci-fi bullshit you may have read about it, you can't tune it out and you can't turn it off. It's like a drug, but a purely intellectual one, and one that you don't want to give up for any reason. It gets even better, though, when you are literally raised in a team of Psionics, you never want to leave that team and you never want to be cut off from them, you become so used to, almost in love with living among each other's thoughts. I was separated from my partners by the Admiralty for shooting a Star Admiral that decided to get overly personal with me after a drinking binge. And not a day goes by where I don't kick myself for not requesting a Refusal through my command structure."

Cagalli started to say something, but Calamira's head hit the table in her arms, almost as if she was crying. "Is...something wrong?"

"By the Gods, Cagalli, how I wish Nerika and Adel were here. You'd get along very well with Adel, Nerika might have given you a hard time for being such a tomboy, though it wouldn't last after you whooped her ass on the shooting range a few times. And were they here, I could read the mind of every person in the Earth Sphere deeply with little effort in as little as a few days. I could tell you what the people really thought and how to go about acting on that knowledge. And it would never happen, Adel and Nerika are somewhere else in Existence and probably regretting it all the same."

_She can't be drunk already, can she_? Cagalli asks herself silently, wondering just how powerful a Whiskey Sour really was.

-x-x-x-

(22 July CE71, 0615 hours)

Something was not sitting well with Murdoch about the insane level of access the Archangel personnel were getting within the _Mjolnr_. It was as if they trusted the crews of the Three Ships completely, or...something else. His mind just could not wrap around why they were allowing them almost complete access, with the exception of certain high-risk areas on the ship pertaining to the main Naval Rail Guns and the ship's engines. On the other hand, most of the crew was also restricted from those areas, so their explanation did follow in pattern. The rest...almost smelled conspiratorial to Murdoch.

Even still, he was not going to complain about the hospitality, despite not trusting it. A crew of the Fighter Techs from the _Montgomery_, one of the smaller _Riga_-class missile corvettes of the fleet, had damn near drank him drunk on beers they financed as they listened to his recounts of the battles the _Archangel_ had been through. The whole group listened long and hard, and Murdoch got the feeling that it was not for entertainment purpose, it was understanding what the Techs on the _Archangel_ had done to help get the team out of the scrapes they were constantly getting into. None of it was classified per se, nothing even really out of the ordinary except for a few field expedient fixes he elaborated on that were real rough ones to pull off, but even that was nothing real special as far as he could tell. And still they listened long and hard.

Murdoch figured there was one of two things going on here. Either these Magi guys (and ladies) were so hard-up for real entertainment that they considered the stories of a crazy spec ops mechanic interesting, or they listened for inherent lessons in anything they could hear from anyone, as a sort of 'always learning' gig. Murdoch had met some of those before, they could be pains in the asses but they were invaluable in getting things fixed. It always turned out to be the pukes that 'knew it all' that inevitably screwed the repair up. So far he was leaning toward the latter of the two choices, especially after having been in both the Sniper Bar and Grill and a set of the Marine Barracks. These Magi definitely did not lack ways to amuse themselves, even if some of those ways beat out the most salacious, perverted, insane and disgusting of the Earth Alliance ranks by an order of magnitude.

"Ah, CPO Murdoch, you are going to tour this Dropship as well?" Murdoch looks to the speaker, and immediately sighs in relief. Martin DaCosta was the asking officer, Captain Waltfeld's second-in-command. Definitely a guy on the level, he had been involved in the hair-brained rescue of pilot Athrun Zala when he made the mistake of confronting his father in a less-than-civil fashion. He was part of the proof that two insanely wrong operations can make the right outcome if some stars aligned properly and a God or two lent a hand...

"Yeah, I'd like to see what these things really take, I think I can make one, a small one, after this shit's over with."

"Nothin' like these big monsters," 'Hairy' Harvey notes after Murdoch does. "I think it'll be decades before anyone can match these ships, or even come close. A small shuttle, though, that should be easy," he says. 'Hairy' was Murdoch's top electronics tech and engineer, and his nickname came from the fact that he was in blatant disregard of Earth Alliance requirements to be clean-shaved for all non-officers. Nobody really complained, he was almost as good as a Coordinator with electronic stuff and nobody wanted to find their door doing strange things if they offended him, so the epic beard survived for another tour....

"You would get rich extremely fast, but you would also have stiff competition from the corporations and states that have Mass Drivers."

"If half the shit I've heard about this ship is true, anyone who wants to give these Magi guys 'stiff competition' for any reason will find themselves 'limp, soggy and complacent' real fast," 'Hairy' notes gruffly.

"Might as well not stand here talking about it," Murdoch says as he trips the door latch to open the locks between the Dropship and the Warship. The Warship lock opens, followed by the Dropship lock immediately after the Warship lock finishes opening. Martin was first to enter after Murdoch gestured him to lead, followed by 'Hairy' and then Murdoch.

"Strange to think that we just walked through the bottom of a ship technically larger than an Earth Alliance _Nelson_-class," Martin notes.

"This...whoa," 'Hairy' groans as they come out of the stairwell from the _Mjolnr_ into a crate maze. It just happened that a lot of the crates they were nearby had the universal placards for either flammable materials, explosives (lots of crates with that designation), or a smattering of other designations (general hazard, non-flammable gas, corrosive, even one crate marked as radioactive). Though, much as they expected, for every hazardous crate, there were four or more that were unmarked, meaning they were just big, not hazardous. "I don't think this is where we want to be," 'Hairy' mutters aloud.

"Where you headin' man? Bridge, hangar decks?" Murdoch was not surprised there was an officer down in the cargo bay, the _Guild II_-class ships had a rather large crew compliment.

"Engine rooms, if we're allowed," DaCosta asks.

"Huh? What you want with those grease-heads?" the Quartermaster officer asks.

"Trying to see how these things work, I'm thinking about building my own after the shooting's over," Murdoch says.

"Oh, that makes sense," the same officer replies. "Follow the yellow line on the floor. Just start small, like thousand tons small, don't start with a monster like these _Guild II_ ships or you'll go bust fast. And if you need a hand, give me a buzz, I'm good for it," he says the last on the sly.

"Gotcha," 'Hairy' replies as the group moves onward, following the glowing yellow path toward the center of the ship on the same level.

When they arrived at the central engine shaft entrance lock (lower), they found it locked out the same as the engine rooms on the other ships to their guest code. Not willing to push hot buttons, the group decided they'd ask one of the chief engineers on the _Mjolnr_ why they were restricted from the engine rooms, and if they could get some help setting up some civvie dropship designs.

"I would have figured their weapon designs and unit specs would be more secret than their engines," DaCosta notes as they head up the stairs toward higher ground.

The _Guild II_-class Dropships had a simple construction, with 'down' in the ship oriented toward the engines, in which fashion the thrust of the engines would push everything down and give them a feeling of gravity all the time the ship was moving. One whit had opined that if you cut a _Guild II_ in half vertically the ship looked like a bigass layer cake with a spike in the middle. This made finding one's bearing s also fairly simple, all you had to do was go for the central engine 'spike' to find the stairs and lifts to the next level.

It was the next layer that really stunned them as they emerged from the central engine shaft stairwell into the large, open bay. Easily hundreds of meters across from one wall to the other, the bay was home to 150 cubicles arrayed in two concentric rings for Mobile Suits, Gundams, or in this case a machine class completely different from what they thought might be inside. Locking points on the grounds of the taxiways in between the cubicles told that the ship itself was capable of carrying far more than it had cube space for, but repairing those units would be tricky at best.

"Who...what are these things? They're not like any Mobile suit out there," Murdoch asks nobody in particular as he walks straight forward from the door to stand in front of a very large machine. It was singularly non-humanoid in appearance, looking like a massive lemon drop with a pair of chicken legs and two boxes for what would be bunny ears. The lack of arms for holding weapons really had Murdoch's interest, since that meant the whole weapon array was internal. The fact that it did not look like anything remotely human made Murdoch wonder if it was a Mobile Suit or something else entirely.

"Catapult is it's name," the speaker was...hanging upside down from the first-level gantry around the machine, which put her head pretty much dead level with the rest of their heads, except her body was inverted. Despite this, there was not much in the way of entertainment for Murdoch and 'Hairy', nothing particularly revealing of her slender frame as she hung upside-down by way of a pair of reinforced boots for the purpose. The ghost-white hair was a bit creepy to Murdoch, but such things hardly bothered him any more. After dealing with Athrun and Kira for as long as he had, much less Lacus Clyne, few things about appearance bothered him any more. DaCosta found her present location amusing, since he knew she was doing exercise routines, but he did wonder why she was doing her exercise in the armor bay. "It's a ground-use fire support unit, used for blowing serious chunks out of enemy ground forces at range while the close-range butchers like the Atlas to your left square off with them face-to-face."

"Ground use?" Murdoch asks, looking it up and down. After a few moments he realized that it lacked maneuvering jets, but did appear to have some heavy thrusters on its back.

"It's not a Mobile Suit, if that is what you are asking."

"Something completely different," DaCosta notes. "Same size, somewhat humanoid appearance, but everything on these machines are internal," he notes, not referring to the Catapult but to some others in the area that were if not human than more humanoid. "No hand-carried weapons?"

"Some can carry hand-held weapons in a pinch, like that Atlas can carry a smaller Mobile Suit and use it as a large club if needed." The thought of such a machine using an Astray or DINN to whack enemies in close combat caused DaCosta and Murdoch to grimace simultaneously. They could also tell she was not joking. "Most of these machines have internal, hard-mount arsenals, and some of them have hard-mount arsenals weighing more than two or three Mobile Suits can carry. Different design philosophy, different target audience and different purpose."

"Ground use only...what real use would that have?" DaCosta asks. "Wars are won or lost in space."

"Space, like the sea and the air, are simply battlegrounds for specialized units. The real measure of the outcome of a war is who holds the land when the echoes fade, be that land colonies or ground on a planet. Feel free to look around, the mechanics can answer any questions you'd have."

Murdoch considered it a fairly oblique dismissal, and he reminded himself that they had interrupted her workout routine. "Just...one question. Why would a patrol fleet have a load of ground units?" he asks.

"If this fleet is the first responder to an enemy planetary assault action, having Battlemechs on the ground with aerofighter, Mobile Suit and Gundam support might be enough to dislodge or destroy the enemy invasion force, or seriously bloody them enough to make them reconsider taking the planet over." The unstated threat was that the fleet would be the _first_ responder, certainly not the last or only responder, and what came afterwards would be more inclined to whoop ass on the ground.

This thought set all three of them to nodding, because the logic was definitely something only the Magi would have the balls to think of. This was not to say that ZAFT or the Earth Alliance lacked balls in such a department, but the current trend of mobile warfare was toward units that could do it all. The Magi used a totally different stance in that they had specialist units for fighter combat, space combat, ground combat, planet invasion, even their Warships filled specific and deadly roles when compared to local contemporaries. And thus far all indications showed that challenging Magi units inside their specialization was asking for a swift and brutal defeat or outright death.

"If I was a betting man, I would wager a chunk of my salary that the Magi might use these machines as a bargaining tool after the shooting is over."

"Of the sledgehammer kind," Murdoch agrees as he stops to look at a squat but wide machine with two large arms that were nothing but cannon and two odd-shaped missile packs on the back of its slender torso section. The width of the muzzles were smaller than the GINN 76mm machine guns, but he had no problem imagining how much damage such weapons could cause in a stand-up fight against ZAFT or the Earth Alliance, despite their new models having advanced defensive capabilities. He was only misgauging what kind of weapons they were, but that was a minor detail in the face of it.

-x-x-x-

(22 July CE 71, 0730 hours)

"I can't believe you're going to try and get this machine running, Star Captain Kika," her controller says.

"This cursed Gundam has been sitting unused in a cubicle for going on an eon now, lovingly maintained by generation after generation of mechanic and no pilot has the balls to try and tame it. The Empire's best manufacturers refuse to build and ship it because it has such a dread reputation. Someone has to un-fuck this machine because we need all the units we can get, and a self-produced multi-role Gundam would be just as useful as the Strike would be." Since she was still attached to the system's internal communications network, there was no chance of that tidbit being intercepted by the _Archangel_..

The few skirmishes that the _Mjolnr_ had run had also been participated in by the crews and Mobile Units of the Three Sisters (what the Magi called the _Kusanagi_, _Archangel_ and _Eternal_), and in that the Magi had even learned some hard lessons of exactly how skilled the pilots around here really were. It also exposed all those mobile units to extreme sensor sweeps by the Magi forces, and in that enough exposure was enough for the Magi to understand the units at a level that would have caused the Morgenroete Engineer Erica Simmons to crap a brick. All the Ship's AI needed was a go-code and they could convert about 100 tons of salvage from prior battles into a new, bright, shiny Freedom Gundam, with one minor revision in the engine compartment.

Apparently what demonstrations the Earth Alliance and ZAFT had already put up were below par, but that was not Kika's real concern right now. Gerald had a 'lesson' planned for the next training skirmish, which would be sometime later today, and the lesson was aimed at the two apparent super-aces of the _Eternal_, Kira Yamato and Athrun Zala. _Knowing Gerald, the lesson could naught but be messy_, Kika figured, then focused back on her task at hand. Gerald liked making sure that his notional allies did not have a god-complex borne of how good they were, because such people tended to screw up the mission five times more frequently than anyone else. Failure out here was unacceptable, therefore a preemptive boot to the ass was the best insurance against a failure.

And then Kika stopped to really focus on her task at hand. Which was a good thing, since the next comment made her laugh heartily. "So, let me guess then, any unit you drive is powered by tits, not balls?" the Controller asks.

"Which makes things twice as efficient and three times more dangerous," Kika completes the thought. Her comment was actually not sexist in Magi parlance, it was an ancient tidbit of wisdom from the first Emperor, Eric Atrebas, and over the millennia many studies had proven the comment to be true or an understatement.

"Roger that," the Controller replies with a giggle. "I have a Wing Zero on standby in case anything goes wrong, Angel One. I expect you will come back alive. Go for launch," she orders.

"Star Captain Kika, Angel Zero, Gundam G-P-zero-zero Blossom, launching!" Kika shouts as she drives the throttle forward to where it tripped the catapults. For the first time in 900 years, this undervalued and derided Gundam left the _Mjolnr_'s repair bays with purpose. Immediately, as the boosters in the Core Booster II kicked in, Kika was rocketed back into her seat almost as bad as if she had hammered it in her Dendrobium. "Good Gods almighty, I like this thing already. It's got more pick-up-and-go than a Dendrobium, and only slightly less top thrust."

"Sweet? How's it handle?" Her operator asks in what Kika could have sworn would have been a schoolgirl's chatty, secretive tone.

"Give me a few to yank and bank on it," Kika says before she does some standard evasion maneuvering. "Looks good, feels about right for one of the GP-series machines. Good enough to pass muster, definitely, but in raw maneuverability it's not going to beat out the best of the XG-series or the top-end of the GX-series. I'd call it middle of the road there," she finally declares. "Not a match for an updated Stamen in pure maneuver, but this thing is also heavier and not designed to act as the cockpit for a 500-ton Mobile Armor."

"All right, run some sensor sweeps, let's look at its electronics package, see what you can see."

"Roger that, activating MPIWS now," Kika declares as she throws the switch for it. Immediately the sensor screen came to life and began classifying anything in the area as friend or foe. "Holy shit, the range on it is immense, far more so than the sensors on my Stamen. I can clearly track the _Eternal_ from where I am, and that is only showing about half distant on my max range gate." (1)

"Whoa, holy shit, that's like a Warship sensor in a small add-on radome," the Controller says. "All right, how's your systems holding out? Any overheating?"

"Engine temp is up, nothing serious right now. Other than that, ready op," Kika replies.

"Next is going to be a long-range test, we're launching some drone tetras, target and destroy while falling back. That rifle you're carrying is a beam sniper rifle, you have plenty of range to work with," the Controller orders.

"I roger your last, fall back while firing. Definitely not a Magi standard tactic, but if it works, do it."

"Roger that. Launching ten targets now," the Controller declares. "Deployed, at your option,"

"Control, Blossom, I have a contact here," Kika notes warily as a red dot shows up on her screen. "Classifying now...local cargo ship, monitor estimated 50,000 tons, heading 3-0-5 depress ten degrees, ship true."

"Do you want to intercept, or shall I call for reinforcements?" the Controller asks.

"Negative, control, no need to involve others in something I can deal with, experimental unit or not. I have a standard beam rifle as well as the sniper rifle, I should be fine."

"Didn't a guy by the name of Custer say something similar?" the Controller requests.

"He did, he also didn't take part of his equipment with him and he walked into a freaking ambush. No sympathy from me on that note. Blossom is heading out now."

"Roger that, awaiting word," the Controller declares. "Good hunting."

Kika moved toward the contact, her Beam Sniper Rifle readied and charged. Unlike the original GP00, the Beam Sniper Rifle had been modified to operate using an E-Pack system supplemented by the Gundam's engine instead of directly feeding from the engine, making the unit extremely flexible and giving the rifle a fire rate of one shot a second, which was only slightly slower than the average beam rifle. The reactor itself had been stripped out and replaced with a short-loop toroidal-style fusion reactor similar to what was used by Omnimechs, meaning that the unit had limitless power at the cost of having a larger engine than the original design called for. Kika figured if she could justify the nano expenditure, this unit would do immensely well with a dual-stage Fusion Reactor, meaning that the reactor could power six of the Blossom frames, their beam weapons, and have energy to spare.

"Attention unidentified ship, this is Kika of the independent mobile armor formation Angel Team. You are hereby ordered to cease your advance and identify your purpose in this sector immediately or you will be dealt with. Confirm my last," she orders.

"Go to hell, bitch. We pirates write the rules for this area, not you. You surrender, we may give you an escape pod to float around and wait for someone to rescue your sorry ass."

"Oh really?" Kika replies with extreme exaggeration. "That's a helluva lot more courtesy than I am allowed to show pirates. I find your humanity rather impressive...for someone that is otherwise scum of Existence. I may have to afford you the same, despite it being against the code. So, which one of you two jerk-offs wants the pineapple up the ass first?"

"I'm gonna make you eat those words through your asshole, cunt-sucking slut," the enemy replies in serious frustration.

Kika did not continue the tirade of verbal insults, instead replying by way of her Beam Sniper Rifle. She figured she was close enough to do the job without giving away the maximum range of the weapon (she still had an extra 30 percent more range to play with), so she centered on the first of the two targets. Her first order of business was to take down the artillery unit between the two, since she could deal with speed-demon enemy MS in close if needed, but she did not want to fly through a pack of missiles to get the job done. One shot, a second, and a third on what she figured would be the next path the enemy artillery unit would take, all in the space of three seconds, and her sniper work was done.

"Whoa, holy fuck, boss lady—SHIT!" the presumptive pilot of the artillery unit shouts over the radio band. "My suit is trashed!"

_He counts that thing as a MS? Standards must be extremely depressed out in this area_, Kika thinks crassly. The thing looked like a series of bricks with the head of a GINN and two scrawny makeshift arms with shields on them, and Kika had slammed the brick three times with beam rifle fire. Calling it a Mobile Suit qualified as two lies for the price of one in her opinion, because it did not appear mobile nor did it have anything near the form of a suit.

"No—no way!" the lady orders. "She—how could she hit us from that far away? _I_ can't even see her!"

"It's your turn, superbitch, but you can be thankful that I'm going to do _you_ up close and real personal;" said with the sound of cracking knuckles as Kika declares in a cold voice as she brings the shield forward and the standard beam rifle to bear before hammering her thrusters.

"Oh, man, this isn't a good day," the lady pirate declares, likely as she got a visual on the incoming mobile suit.

"Oh fracking piece of shit!" Kika slams the radar console when she realizes the MPIWS system had cut out on her. "Switching to standard sensor suite, MPIWS just died out."

"Roger that, go for it girl!" the Controller orders. "Whoa, I'm showing an overheat warning on your engine, Kika, you may want to back off the throttle."

"What the hell? I'm just cruising right now, I don't have the hammer down. Where the hell is the cooling system in this thing?"

"Probably nonexistent," the Chief Engineer for her repair bay zone declares. "Keep it slower, don't push it or you'll blow your fuel tanks from translated heat. Or cook yourself."

"I always wanted to tan up, but cooking myself like a lobster is not my idea of how I wanted to accomplish that," Kika declares as her standard sensor systems pick up the remaining enemy machine. "Got the tango, moving in slow and steady now."

"Oh, fuck, what the hell kinda machine is that?" the Pirate asks on open channel. "No wonder she got you, Otark, she's got a beam cannon on that thing big enough to blow chunks out of a Warship." Kika could guess that the lady pirate was referencing the 'artillery brick' that Kika had hit with three rounds of sniper-grade beam rifle. "Now, how fast are you?"

Kika could instantly sense the attempt at attacking the Blossom, even before the enemy pulled the trigger Kika had rotated, braced her shield, and brought the beam rifle onto target. She fired twice on the same bearing as the enemy machine gun firing back at her. The impact of the 76mm machine gun rounds was more than enough to rattle the frame of her Gundam, but she figured the sight of the neon violet beams passing her machine or striking the debris nearby would be enough to scare her into inaction. As the enemy ducked out of sight, Kika began formulating her plan and moving upwards in relation to the orbital plane, where a conventional enemy would move along the sides to try and close in on the enemy. (2)

"Oh man, I should have stayed in bed this morning," the pirate declares.

"Sleep is for the weak, honey," Kika declares in a half-singsong voice to try and distract the enemy. It worked, she continued looking around the side of a piece of debris from a wrecked colony as Kika maneuvered up and over it.

"Yeah, right, bitch, what do you do in bed?"

"Besides get laid? I do not sleep, pirate scumdog, I wait." Kika used her manual targeting system to center the beam rifle and take a shot, since using the automatic system would have locked her up and alerted her to the fact that Kika had LOS. One shot is all she took. One shot is all she needed.

The beam struck just at the joint between the neck of the MS and the right shoulder, heading down and left through the mobile suit. On its way the beam blew through the main capacitor and effectively killed the suit's ability to move or power its weapons, only to exit around the left waist area about two meters below the left arm. In one shot, Kika had taken out the remaining enemy, completely bypassing the need to chase her down and cleave her suit up with a beam saber.

"Wha—DAMN! HOW DID YOU DO THAT SHIT?" she screams furiously.

"I am used to doing so much with so little I can now do the impossible with nothing," Kika replies. "It is the job of the Angel Team, honey. A lesson you are about to get a crash course in. Besides, you are a pirate, not a soldier; you stood in the same place for too long expecting I would not find you from a different angle. Big mistake."

"Oh hell no! I am not being taken prisoner by you, bitch!" the Pirate declares.

"Okay, then how do you want to be executed? Spaced, shot or sabered?" Kika asks in a level voice.

"What the hell is this? You've kicked my ass, you're supposed to rescue me now!"

" 'Supposed to,' honey?" Kika's snort was loud and very derisive. "Under my society's mil regs, technically I am required to execute a confirmed pirate on sight. Consider yourself lucky that I am allowing you two a way out, unless you really do want to die?"

"Erm...no," she replies timidly. "You mean..."

"No. Not Earth Alliance, kid. Not by a long shot."

"Right," she declares. "Okay, I surrender, take me to jail, do what you will," she replies.

"It shall not be that simple, pirates," Kika replies icily. "You are about to get the one-zero-one on being a Magi Bondsman. Hope you have kneepads in your survival kits, pirates always start out on the latrine duty cycle."

"Oh shit, this isn't going to do anything for my nails," the lady Pirate replies.

"You will learn that being fashionable is not in the cards for a Bondsman."

-x-x-x-

Cagalli yawns. "Oh, what time is it?" she asks, wondering why she was feeling so tired.

Calamira was silent, apparently checking around the area for someone who was nearby a clock that she could 'pirate' the time from. "0840 hours."

"Oh man, I'm tired and I still have four hours in the day to go," Cagalli declares as they continue down one of the secondary corridors, headed toward the bridge and the connection points for the three ships _Kusanagi_, _Eternal_, and _Archangel_, which were all nearby the front of the ship.

"Yeah, it's been a long day. Strategic meetings, touring the ship, got drunk and danced my butt off, fun times," Calamira declares. "If I had any more to drink back there, I wouldn't be able to hear myself think, much less anyone else."

Calamira had been absolutely right about one thing: once she got out on the dance floor, nobody took notice of her except as another one in the crowd. A few had been eying her with suspicion, Cagalli could tell, and at least one guy had tried some moves on her that got nowhere fast, but for the thirty minutes she had been at it, she was just another among many. For a society that was at least discerning about who and where someone is, even if it technically means little among them (excepting actual rank and veterancy), it was a strange dichotomy that was amusing to Cagalli all the same. If Kisaka had caught her doing that, in or out of uniform, she would definitely have had hell to pay.

"I'm not so sure that's a good thing," Cagalli replies as Calamira lists to starboard and eventually slams into a wall while walking.

"I'm taking a rest here, hold on," she notes in what Cagalli could tell was a rather sauced voice. "Whoa, something's not right on the other side of this wall," Calamira declares as she pushes away from it. "People in here...this is supposed to be a shower room."

"Really? Sounds like...I dunno," Cagalli says, her ear to the wall next to Calamira. "Definitely not a shower."

"The entrance is on the other side, follow me," Calamira could maintain enough of her ability to stand straight and walk straight that she did not appear hosed, and they managed to make it to the corner nearest the entrance door before anything else happened.

"Attention all hands, this is the Ship's Jester with a public service announcement. Drugs will make your head explode," and immediately following was the sound of an explosion, something Cagalli recognized as the distinct sound of a missile detonating; "and that's why we shoot drug runners and dealers. Thank you and have a nice day."

"Infinite wisdom from our Jester, yet no paycheck for the poor sod," a Marine standing guard outside what was (at least at one time) a bathroom had Calamira's interest, but she said nothing to the Marine about him being there out of armor but with a sidearm and a cigarette.

"Whoever he is, he's got my vote for a 500 C-bill bonus on top of his normal wage," Calamira declares. "More, if he acts like a Jester in his off-duty time."

"You got it, Admin. You're in the wrong place for the Club 300, though, it's that a-way," and the Marine points. The fact that he even mentioned it made it suspect, but again Calamira said nothing.

"Been there, done that, looking for better. Any ideas?"

"Supposedly there is a casino on the ship somewhere, but it is secret at this time." the Marine artfully dodged the fact that he was standing guard on a unisex shower room, which was definitely not normal procedure.

"Well, I keep hearing about a casino somewhere around here, care to point me in the right direction big guy?" Calamira asks.

The guy says nothing for a moment, just looks back and forth up and down the hall. "Through this door. And don't blame me or the patron if you go broke,"

"Roger that," Calamira says as she somewhat gracefully manages to avoid slamming into the Marine and enters the room. Cagalli, out of mutual support for the significantly sauced Strategic Officer, follows close into the modesty corridor that prevented all but a concerted attempt to enter the room.

"Here," Cagalli damn near walks into Calamira's outstretched hand, which was holding one of the mysterious C-bills that Calamira had only seen a few twenties and that was it. This one was a fifty, which supposedly was triple more powerful than the Earth Dollar. "You'll need this."

"Calamira, I don't think we should be doing this—"

"Cagalli, you need to get away from the perception that your whole life has to be proper. Yes, you are military, yes, you are the last remaining of the Athha bloodheritage (3), and if you don't get away from yourself every now and again, you will eventually go crazy. And that alone is a greater failure than any other."

Cagalli still had her misgivings about going into an obviously shady casino, but two things forced her onward: one, Calamira was right, she was probably going to go crazy if she didn't cut loose sometimes, and two, you never abandon a teammate (and Cagalli thought of Calamira as part of her team at the moment) when entering a possibly hostile situation. She accepted the fifty C-bills, which probably was not a huge amount when entering a casino, and followed Calamira in.

The place was actually far from the posh, well-decorated and glamorous casinos of the movies, Cagalli realized immediately. The tables were all more sturdy than well-crafted, designed for rough use by rough people. There was precisely one slot machine, two video poker machines, and a makeshift game of 'guess where the hot chick is' using the old deactivated shower stalls. The tables ran the gamut, poker, blackjack, craps, roulette, and appeared to be the main focus of the thirty or so people in the room. The atmosphere was quiet, not quite subdued but far from as energetic as a normal casino would be, presumably because they were not supposed to be running a casino in an otherwise functional shower room.

Cagalli decides that blackjack, a game she had played off and on with the Desert Dawn teams, would be her best bet for not getting cleaned out fast. So, as Calamira headed for the roulette table Cagalli broke off and bellied up to the blackjack game. With 50 C-bills at her disposal, she figured she would either win big indefinitely or get crashed sometime in the next hour. That's how it always went for her.

"Deal me in, if you will," Cagalli requests at an open location at the table, handing over her cash to the dealer.

"You got it, kid," the dealer replies immediately. She could guess he was about 25, maybe a bit older, and very slick in demeanor. Not the kind of greasy slick that reminded her of politicians or school preppies, it was more of the 'slick' that operators and business professionals presented, a kind but not overbearingly so demeanor, professional in another word.

As the first hand was dealt and she sorted out her chips, Cagalli checked her hole card and came to the conclusion that Lady Luck was already looking in her direction.

"Split, please," the fighter pilot to her right requests as he reveals a pair of aces.

"Roger that," the dealer replies as he passes the pilot a pair of hole cards to go with his now-split hand. Nobody else had a split request, so he started with the rightmost. "Call?"

"Hit," the player two to Cagalli's right asks. She could not tell what her profession was, but she could tell that the lady was at least thirty and otherwise nondescript.

"Hit," the fighter pilot to her right requests, pointing to his right-side hand. "Stand," he says after he gets one card. "Stand on the left," he says immediately thereafter.

"Stand," Cagalli declares.

"Hit," the MedTech to her left requests. The MedTechs stood out among the Magi, where most of the Magi uniforms were nondescript and you had to check their brass to identify their specialty (or be told), the MedTechs had red crosses on their uniforms that clearly identified them at distance. Supposedly a clearly marked MedTech was not shot by the old enemies of the Magi, but word among them was that casualties were still very high, especially in battle.

"Flip 'em," the dealer orders. In moments, all the cards were loosed.

"Winner, the lady from Aube," the dealer notes as all the chips were pushed her way. Hers was the only 21 hand, even despite the guy who split.

_You know, I may come to like this. So long as I can talk Calamira out of here after about an hour or two_, Cagalli thinks aloud as she sorts and stacks her chips.

-x-x-x-

(same day, 1000 hours)

The sight of an autocannon on a fire-test mount was nothing special in the confines of a Magi ship. After all, to make sure the damned things work, they had to be shot from time to time. For that, a 'slug trap' had been set up on the far side of the target, and the whole thing was arrayed toward the airlock door in the hangar. The only reason they were not doing this outside the ship was because they were running on a half-G thrust and it would not take the test long to fall behind the fleet.

The supposed reason for the test, far from routine. The Star Admiral was not someone normally invited to a gun test, same as Gerald Lightbringer. Calamira Weste had not been available nor answered a page, but by the same token she was off-duty and not really germane to this test.

"All right, people, commanders, you've all seen these puppies in action. Mydron Model RC6, rotary autocannon in 65mm caliber. Twelve slugs in ten seconds per load cartridge, honed receivers for smooth feed, automatic delinker if you have to feed it a belt of ammo, safe eject of cartridges in the tubes to prevent cookoff. Nothing special," the demonstrating Mechanic declares.

"As much as I expect," Gerald Lightbringer replies. In tow were the beings known as the Terrible Twins, Wendy and Mina Barus, Angel Two and Angel Three respectively when out and about in their Dendrobium Armors. Their reason for being here was suspect, but they were paying attention properly and did not appear bored.

"We have a target set, a three by three by one sheet of Lamellor Ferro-Carbide armor, same thing as the ships are usually armored in. Again, nothing spectacular. You can probably guess the result, but we're still going to demonstrate for effect. Eyes and ears, people," he warns quickly, his meaning was that all observers should be wearing hearing and eye protection. Moments later the gun begins spinning but no fire was being loosed from it; that changed moments later as the gun let loose twelve slugs in ten seconds into the armor. The gun's climb caused it to leave a trail of pock-marks up the panel of armor as each round struck and detonated. Against a battlemech's armor, such well-aimed attacks would tear through armor, but against a Warship they were not a real serious threat. This test confirmed that, the armor was cratered but far from penetrated.

"Well, that was rather unimpressive. You'd need a couple tons of those semi-explosive rounds to get through that plate," Mina Barus declares.

Much unexpected, but becoming typical, was the intercom's buzz and following announcement. "Ship's Jester reporting that any contacts running too close to the aft of the ship may be served for lunch with honey-mustard sauce. That is all." The joke caused a few laughs, as one fool pilot had actually done that recently. A Dendrobium made the mistake of flying through the exhaust of the massive interplanetary engines of the Mjolnr, and the damage was immense to the armor and particularly its weapon systems. The pilot was on sick leave for a case of dehydration, but his machine was slated for two weeks of repairs to get it back into battery. Area restrictions were now strictly enforced for the stern of the ship.

It had also become typical to listen to the comment, then continue going on about your duties. "Well, as I said, that was just for reference to standard. And now, we have a new type of ammo that appears derived from the enemies that sent us on this hell-bound tour," he says as a new cart with a different ammo drum was wheeled into place of the old one by some of his subordinate techs. "These rounds we found interspersed about one in four in enemy magazines recovered, and we were able to dissect several and come up with this, our own version of their penetrators. And you're going to shit bricks when you see what these things will do," the Chief Engineer declares.

"You'd better produce on that promise, or you may not like the penalty we'll inflict on you," Mina declares.

"I'm not sure if I should deliberately screw this up or run away screaming," the Chief Engineer replies with a smile. Rumors of the 'penalties' inflicted on those who lost a challenge to the Barus Twins were rife, salacious, very perverted, and rather shocking. "Still, make sure you have your ears on, these are kinetic rounds and use heavier charges than the HEAP rounds."

"Ears up!" one of the mechanics shouts as he flicks the barrel motor switch and clears behind the safety shields.

"Firing three, two, one, now," and the gun cuts loose with the same twelve-slug burst. True to their warning, these were much higher velocity rounds due in most part to the powder charges behind them, but also to another factor...

"Whoa, holy fuck," Gerald Lightbringer declares first. The Star Admiral was simply staring at the plate in question, mouth agape at the destruction caused. "Dude, what the fuck?"

"Phase shifting penetrators," the Chief Engineer declares.

"Phase Shift...you mean the same shit that stops KE and explosive attacks against the local Gundams?" the Star Admiral finally asks.

"Yes sir, same thing only applied in attack instead of defense."

"Hey, air movement!" Wendy Barus shouts. "Someone plug those holes!"

"Shit! We're venting through the damned bay doors! Get those emergency vent kits up here NOW!" Mina Barus shouts immediately thereafter.

"What? Oh shit!" one of the mechanics shouts. "We're venting! Someone get a plugger in here! NOW DAMNIT NOW!"

Wayne and Gerald watched as several mechanics moved to emergency kit boxes around the bay and pulled out plugging capsules, which contained a sort of pre-charged plug chemical called HarJel. The capsules were designed so that when they were sheared and vented to negative air pressure, an electrical charge from a battery pack in the capsule discharged through the chemical and immediately hardened it to plug the leak. The Marines had a similar system in their armor, but usually when that much trauma occurred to Marine Armor the Marine inside was KIA anyways, and sealing the armor itself was a moot point at that time.

"Opinions, ladies and...sir?" the Chief Engineer asks as the Star Admiral walks up to the target. He began feeling the holes, seeing how clean the punch-through was and even squatted down to look through the meter of armor and at the backstop behind. The slugs had gone through the standard-grade backstop, which was rated for guns up to 200mm, and kept going. Eventually they punched through to the inside airlock bay door, and the outside airlock bay door was presently jammed open on a mechanical fail, meaning that once those slugs got through the bay door they were in vacuum.

"Clean holes, through and through," Wayne mutters, still looking through the fifth and sixth slug holes.

"Complete resistance to deformation, and actually reduced translation of impact shock except outside what matter it punches aside during the transit. I'll admit I was not expecting the slug to retain its Phase Shift that long, our tests of the initial recovered live ammo died in the air gap between the target and the backstop."

"And because you built it, it is better, right?" Gerald declares. He got only a nod from the Chief Engineer. "Better longevity, better batteries? Is this production sustainable?" (4)

"Reasonably so. Per unit, it's going to cost about double standard autocannon ammo, same for Vulcans, Machine Cannons, or Naval applications."

"Double is fucking cheaper than EAP ammo by a long shot," Gerald says. EAP ammo was pretty much restricted to aces and people who could afford it themselves, because it was so expensive. The flip side was that each round had almost double the penetration power of standard ammo, but quadruple the cost per round and massed double that of standard ammo types.

"These results...can we expect them every time?" Star Admiral Centara asks.

"Yes. The only downside is you cannot use these kinds of shells in rail guns or gauss rifles, the magnetic coils or rails absolutely destroy the internal phasing regulators. Chemical or explosive propellant only." Bracing circuit boards inside a shell was nothing new to Magi, it had been done for millennia in laser-guided, sensor-guided and satellite-guided artillery rounds.

"Hyper-velocity penetrators? And what about physical weapons?" Mina asks, intrigued by the possibilities already.

"Hard to say. I'd need time and resources to experiment," the Chief Engineer declares.

"You'll get them, but not now. I need a requirements list of what it takes to make these, and I hope you have schematics the AI can understand. We'll hold this capability in reserve for now, but at the right time I'd like to shove it up the necessary person's asses," Star Admiral Centara declares.

"Yes sir, I'll ready the ammo, you provide me the gun specs and you'll get as much as I can give."

-x-x-x-

(22 July CE 71, 1115 hours)

Cagalli had become so wrapped up in the ebb and flow of her blackjack streak that she lost pretty much all concept of time, simply loosing herself to the movements of the game as a way to take her mind well off the strains of the changing times and the coming battles. Escapism though she knew it to be, she could naught but continue, knowing that tomorrow may not be so peaceful for her. It was proving to be the perfect distraction.

"Winner, the Aube Mechanic," and the dealer shuffles the chips over to the mechanic in question, who also happened to be the mechanic for her new Gundam, the Strike Rouge. It was an improvement on the Strike concept, and with the Aile Pack or even the new IWSP pack she would be able to help save lives when the battle came to pass. She just hoped she would be good enough to survive it in the end.

"Good hand," she declares to the mechanic, who so far had fleeced her out of about a third of her earnings. She had not won large, but she had a respectable 500 C-bills for her efforts so far. Her cap seemed to be two grand, then someone managed to leech her back down to 800 or so. The fighter pilot that she had started against was turning out to be the real gambler de rigeur, giving her several good runs for her C-bill, but each time she stood on the brink of defeat, she bounced back with a vengeance.

Cagalli took a moment to look around the room, content that the persons around her were not going to cheat and try to rip her chips off. Those that were not subordinate to her were otherwise honorable Magi soldiers, and cheating in sucha fashion was grounds to get one's ass kicked among the Magi. She immediately found sight of Calamira, sleeping on a deactivated (and closed) toilet, obviously exhausted from her day's exertions; Cagalli had to remind herself that it had been almost a twenty hour day for her already, and not much shorter than that for herself. A pair of Marines were chatting on their way out the door, nothing special there so she continued looking past them to the guess-the-shower-stall game, then her eyes were drawn back to the Marines at the entryway...

She saw a long, thin object bounce off the wall and land just inside the door, plus another that was thrown around the corner almost haphazardly. Before her mind registered what she just saw, the whole world flashed white with a deafening crack, followed closely by a second crack, as all her senses were overloaded by the sheer flash and sound and pressure of the assault.

Her mind remained stunned for quite a while, but it clearly recorded what was going on even if she could not understand it at a higher level. After the light from the flash grenades (that is what they had to be) subsided, Marines in their armor but without the heavy weapons had surged into the room and were removing people by way of dragging them out two or three at a time. The stun Cagalli took was more than enough to keep her under until she was dragged out of the room herself, by way of the front of her uniform shirt and bra. Her mind could tell it was a rather uncomfortable experience, but even then she could tell the Marine had no joy in such actions due to her stern expression and her own rack was big enough to actually show (minor) relief on her chest plate (meaning the marine was at least two sizes larger than she was).

By the time she regained higher processing power to her brain, Cagalli was already seated against the wall outside the casino area It was a few moments before anyone else was removed from the area, then much to Cagalli's aghast Calamira was dropped roughly in front of Cagalli to take a seat next to her and await 'being processed'. Outside the Casino is where the armed marines were, several of them had the large 20mm Armor Assault Rifles out and readied as a show of force, and nobody was thinking loud about escape as far as Cagalli could tell.

_You are right, nobody is. They know they are caught and there is no sense running, the Ship's AI already knows about this and knows who has been captured. A lot of people are going to be spending brig time for this one, including at least me, maybe you as well_.

_I knew we should not have gone in here_, Cagalli thinks loudly, mostly in frustration to herself.

_You are probably right, Cagalli, but just consider what happened in the past several hours: you forgot about the war, you enjoyed yourself, and you made about a grand off fifty bucks worth of starter. Regardless of the outcome to come, that may have been worth it in the end. Or do you disagree_?

Cagalli shakes her head to reply 'no' to Calamira's analysis. _Isn't this going to damage your career_? Cagalli asks.

_Far less than shooting a drunk and forcefully lecherous Star Admiral. I'll bet fifty C-bills that Star Admiral Centara would have been down here had he been off-duty and the establishment was sanctioned_.

"You would win that bet, but do not tell anyone I said so," Star Admiral Centara declares as he stops and squats down in front of the two. "Unfortunately, you are right, someone is going to have to serve brig time for this. If the proprietor had bothered to ask, I probably would have said 'yes' in less than a New York Minute."

"Erm, can you...erm..." Cagalli asks, wondering just how many people in the command structure _could_ read minds, since it seemed everyone short of Commander Ward could...

"No, just psionic sensitive. I can hear easily a point-to-point but I can't do anything else beyond that. Side effect of some surgery I had a long time ago. Now, is that all, Star Colonel?"

"Aff, Star Admiral," the Star Colonel declares from behind him. "All right you pukes, settle down! The boss has something he'd like to say to ye!"

"I don't think I need to tell you why this was wrong, people. Modding the ship is supposed to go through me first, even for something that bears the impression of not likely to be approved. You can expect that by the time you get out of the brig, the casino will be dismantled and returned to a shower room." there was a unanimous groan from all the detainees. "I will give you all one sop to honorable conduct here, however, your final earnings or losses will be credited to your personal accounts. Whether here or in your barracks, a win is still a win. End of story." There was a low murmur of assent to that. "All right, Marines, move 'em out to brig areas nearby their duty stations and determine standing. Move out," the Star Admiral orders. As the first Marines descended on the personnel to start breaking them up and assigning brig or cleaning duties, the Star Admiral entered the makeshift casino himself to inspect the facility. He was escorted by two of the armed Marines in so doing.

"Slick setup, for a makeshift operation," the Marine Point Commander with him declares.

"We're going to need that kind of slick to get through these coming times," Wayne declares. "And I need a way to focus it without it looking like I am focusing it." All wisdom showed that if you did something from a command standpoint without making it look like you were commanding, it got done faster and better.

"You're referring to the inevitable exodus of persons from affected states to neutral nations like us, Aube, Scandanavia, and such?" the Star Commander with him notes. "Give them the Empire's dues (5), and they'll follow you to hell and back."

"That is only going to be a start, Star Commander. I need more ideas than that, or we will never get this ship repaired."

-x-x-x-

(22 July CE 71, 1720 hours UTC)

"Hope you're ready for this, man," Gerald declares.

"I am. All I need is one good swing and I can take 'em down." the Altron closes up and grabs a hold on the back of the Neue Ziel Upgrade that Gerald piloted normally. "Go for it, Gerald," the pilot orders.

"Moving out, three G accel," Gerald delcares. 3 gravity acceleration was something the Altron was capable of only when the pilot put his foot down, unlike the Neue Ziel which had 3 G as the maximum cruising speed. "Time to arrival is about two minutes."

"They're not too far from us? Wow, I thought they would have gravitated farther out."

"Neg, they have been getting closer to the fleet since they began skirmishing. Which works to our advantage."

"Shall we warn them?"

"You don't exist until the shooting begins, man. I'll get their attention here in a moment." Gerald dials in the radio band for the training skirmish. "Attention all units on this band, this is Gerald Lightbringer, callsign Angel Zero, reporting that school is now in session. Hope you have your textbooks out and your homework ready."

"Oh shit," The Altron Pilot heard by pass-through from Gerald's radio. "He's riding the Neue Ziel, a lot of us ain't going to survive this skirmish."

"Heads up, he's already in gun range, ladies," another person declares.

"Oh man, this is not going to be pretty," Wayne could recognize the voice of the Justice pilot, Athrun Zala, among the others that were griping.

"Say hello to my little friend!" Gerald shouts before he rattles off a series of six beams and ejects the wire-guided remote arms from his Mobile Armor. The Altron pilot could not see the result, since he was electronically silent at the time, operating only on reactor and camera systems, but the pass-through for the radio had some rather foul swearing in three languages for the barrage.

"Break up! Scatter! Use ballistic and missile weapons, beams aren't going to get to him unless you hit it with naval particle cannons first!" one of the pilots orders.

"And now for the first lesson: expect attacks from any direction," Gerald declares. "Try this!"

"Oh shit, those arms are all over the place!" a Magi pilot declares.

"I can't track on it!" Pilot Kira Yamato half-shouts, trying to take shots at one of the arms. "CRAAAP!" he presumably shouts as the arm closes up on him and tries taking him down with a simulated beam saber stroke."

"Do it!" Gerald shouts, the one thing that the Altron pilot was waiting for as the Gundam Freedom begins to cross right-to-left in his view. The range was absurdly close, less than a second's flying time including acceleration, yet the Freedom was stuck trying to contend with one of Gerald's remote arms and not paying much attention to its surroundings.

The Altron pilot stomps on his main thrusters, immediately separating from the Neue Ziel and showing up as a separate contact on everyone's sensors. Since the fateful battle with the Mobile Dolls, the pilot had modified the Altron he piloted with two critical new features: salvaged wing binders from a Wing Zero Gundam and a beam machine gun from a Gelgoog Commander Type. Due to the increased maneuvering power, when he hammered it his Gundam was literally on top of the Freedom in less than a second. The pilot did not have the time to react to the new threat and the maneuvering arm that was chasing him, he fired a series of paint rounds from his Vulcans into the arm only to see the business end of a simulated beam trident come in and impale the Freedom right in the reactor. Without doubt, his Gundam was dead in that one stroke, and the radiation from having his reactor opened like that would probably have killed him if it was a real battle.

"What the—huh? Kira!" Athrun shouts as he realized what had happened: an unidentified Gundam had used Angel Zero as cover to close to point-blank range and skewer the Freedom while Kira was distracted. "I thought—"

"Don't think, kid, MOVE!" the pilot of the Altron shouts as he suits his own actions to his orders, arcing upwards while mercilessly spraying his beam machine gun and tail binder beam cannons at the Justice and more importantly around it, forcing the Aegis to take a defensive stance and not move anywhere. After he reach ed apogee of an arc that would have come down on top of the Justice, the pilot immediately changes his course downward and right, in the process dodging two beam attacks and deflecting a third with the shoulder shield on the Altron. As he continued moving he did so while still firing his beam machine gun rapidly at the Justice still.

Athrun growls at the unidentified Altron's actions as he takes the lesson to heart. The Fatum-00 Subflight lifter detaches and goes high against the Altron as the Justice deploys and slings a Beam boomerang out directly. The (now apparently crazy) pilot shifts thrust again and charges through the boomerang, inadvertently passing under the Fatum-00 too fast for Athrun to compensate and stopping the boomerang cold by ramming it with his shield. Altron continued the close-in charge to the last, his beam trident set as Athrun's beam javelin came out, with an absolutely mollifying clash followed by a flying drop-kick from the close-quarters Gundam delivered to the Justice. It was more than a rude shock to Athrun that the enemy machine, despite being an 'older' Magi unit, was a bit faster than the Justice.

"Damnit!" Athrun shouts as he tries regaining his bearing on the insane pilot of this modified Altron, only to find himself staring at the oncoming claw of the dragon arm; his beam saber came up and slammed the claw, a stroke that would have removed it, but immediately thereafter he saw his doom as the twin beam cannons on the tail of the Altron fired just under the elbow of the outstretched claw and right into his chest. His battle was over as well.

"The Gundams are down, Gerald, but I paid a tab for it," the Altron pilot's voice sounded familiar to Athrun now...

"Aff, lost an arm I can sense," Gerald declares. "Continue the battle, we can handle the rest without further incident," Gerald orders immediately thereafter.

"We won't go down so easily!" Aube Pilot Juri Wu Nien shouts back in defiance.

"No, I don't imagine you shall," the pilot of the modified Altron declares. "I expect a workout for canning your asses, all of you."

"Oh shit," one of the remaining Magi pilots declares. "Is that the Star Admiral's Altron?"

"I dunno, I heard it was being modded, but I never expected THIS!" a lady shouts.

"Whoops, looks like you let your guard down," the Altron pilot declares. Gerald had broadsided three of the pilots, including the one that opined the Altron was being modded, and took them down with missile and autocannon fire. "Focus on the Magi pilots, I will deal with the Aube units remaining," of which there were only five of the twelve Astray machines active, but the Magi had seven of the fifteen Gundams and MS still going that were involved in this skirmish.

"Easy prey," Gerald replies. That one of their own would say so was chilling to the 'locals,' since those same Magi had fought both Freedom, Justice, and the Astray team to a standstill prior. There was the hint that he was saying so as intimidation, but...

The Altron moved in on the remaining Astray, which had gravitated left and away from the Magi toward where Freedom and Justice had gone down. As the now-assumed certifiable pilot closed in on their ranks he began firing his beam machine gun at an absurdly long range, using it basically for long-range suppression. However, the enemy was not as stunned as the pilot thought they to be, and after one of their ranks succumbed to several practice-strength hits that scorched paint and no more, the remaining four split up in three directions and began firing in kind.

As the Neue Ziel hammered on the Magi officers that were not really accustomed to fighting a foe with far more armor than they had, the numbers began to catch up to the Altron. A lucky hit took his Beam Machine Gun out of play, scored on him by Asagi Caldwell, followed closely by a concerted effort from two other pilots to close in on him from the right with beam sabers while Juri closed in on him from the left and above. Caught in a three way attack, the pilot was able to cleave his way out in one direction only, taking down two of the enemy with aimed shots of 60mm vulcan and the tail binder beam cannons, but in the end it was Juri that sabered his Gundam in half just below the cockpit before Asagi put a pair of beam rifle rounds in his torso. "Ha! Got ya dirtbag!"

"Indeed, but best you work on your plan fast, Gerald Lightbringer only had two Magi Gundams to go before it is your turn," the Altron pilot replies. "You did well to catch me in three directions and force the issue on my damaged side, but you must do better or you will not survive future real battles."

Juri and Asagi read between the pilot's phrasing to the meaning, and both immediately turned around and began moving to support the two remaining Magi Gundams. For one, their backup was a moment too late as the pilot was sabered by the remote arm. Juri specifically targeted it first, shooting it several times apparently as it tried to maneuver, and after five good hits it fell silent and was retracted. Asagi chose the direct approach, drawing her beam saber and driving in on the massive Mobile Armor—there would be a lot of target to cleave up there—but made one mistake in so doing. A simulated missile launch from the tail binder apparently tore the legs off her Astray, leaving her almost unable to maneuver properly, followed shortly by her flying through the path of a beam gun mounted in its back.

"No!" Asagi shouts as she slams the console with both hands, a sound that echoed well across the radio channel. "I—damnit!"

To make things only more confusing to the remaining two pilots, Gerald Lightbringer inverted his armor and thrust away from the Magi Gundam, though did not fire on it any more than his 105mm Autocannons already were doing. The pilot was doing an excellent job dodging, but not after Gerald passed Juri headed away from both. A salvo of micromissiles proved to be the decisive distraction to both pilots as Gerald retargeted his armor on Juri and fired a single blast of the Mega Particle Cannon mounted centrally in the armor. Once shot was enough to simulate completely cooking the top half of her Mobile Suit clean off the rest of the body. The strike against Juri proved enough of a distraction to the Magi Gundam pilot that he absorbed several missile hits, one of which appeared to fly into the cooling vent on the chest of his Gundam, which caused his reactor to overheat in a matter of moments due to how hard he was pressing it.

"Attention all participants, this is Training Command, cease combat action immediately. This skirmish is decided. Gerald Lightbringer is the only survivor."

"All right, people, time for the report card," Gerald declares.

"Twenty bucks, we all failed," Mayura declares, having been knocked out of the battle early on by one of the Magi Gundams.

"Neg, not quite," the Altron pilot declares. "Shall I, Gerald?"

"Please do, Star Admiral," Gerald replies. There were some gasps from the Astray personnel; Cagalli seemed to be the exception about a mobile-warfare-trained commander, but the commander of a 6000-man-plus Warship also piloted a Gundam?

"Technically, in reference to actions conducted during the battle, you all did good or better. Some mistakes, but nothing major enough to guarantee instant death. Tactically is where you fell apart. Magi against Aube, you were doing acceptable in that you were focusing your effort on each other's ranks and not trying damn foolish things like flank attacks or such. You all blew it royally when you did not unite quickly and decisively against Gerald and myself. The arrival of the two of us should have done nothing more than provide a temporary distraction to twenty-six of you, and yet you allowed yourselves to be divided and conquered. Big mistake. The other tactical FUBAR (6) you made was that you attacked in no more than a group of four! You are soldiers, not freaking medieval knights! I expect better out of all of you, especially the Magi in this skirmish! Fighting one-on-one is for the Circle of Equals and the Trial of Possession, it is NOT for real battle! Is that clear?"

"Aff, Star Admiral!" several of the Magi and Asagi all shout at the same time.

"All right, all of you draw fresh ammo, get some charge blocks and fuel cells, and take a thirty-minute breather. We will begin a new skirmish at that time, clear?"

"And no fouling the waters with one-on-one dunderhead tactics or you will be scrubbing latrines for some time after today's training is over," Gerald Lightbringer orders with The Voice of Command. Nobody, not even Kira and Athrun, would dare to disobey him after the showing the two of them just gave.

Athrun silently admitted that he was not going to underestimate the Star Admiral again.

-x-x-x-

(22 July CE 71, 2230 hours UTC)

"Uh, Professor? I have something significantly strange here," Liam declares as he looks over the sensor screen.

"What?" the Professor asks in a bored fashion.

"I have the three ship's were supposed to meet and resupply, but I also have an increasing amount of contacts behind and around them. Some of them are also as large or larger than the _Archangel_, ma'am," Liam says.

"Okay, hold on," the Professor replies as she picks up the handset for the radio and dials in the frequency and encoding for the ships. "_Archangel_, this is _Cornelius_-class resupply ship _RE-H.O.M.E_., we're seeing a lot of traffic around your ships at this time, is something going on, over."

"_RE-H.O.M.E_., this is _Archangel_, Commander Mu La Flaga speaking. right now you should be seeing some travelers we came across during our travels near the Mendel colony. They are not hostile, they are aware you're here to resupply our ships, over."

"I hope they don't need supplies," Kisato declares. "There's a huge amount of them."

"What the hell did they find around Mendel that we didn't?" Lowe Gear asks. "That's a lot of 'em, maybe they're being coerced?"

"Attention _RE-H.O.M.E_., this is Erica Simmons on the _Kusanagi_, Professor, how has it been going for you guys?"

"Pretty good, Erica, how about you?"

"Wonderful, just wonderful. We've been working on various strategies to bring the war to and end before things get way out of hand. You?"

"Just doing the usual Junk Guild thing, we go where they say we need to go, and try to make a buck or two at it. Say, these friends of yours, they going to need anything while we're here?" The Professor was apparently convinced that the three ships were not in any danger, as far as the rest of the crew could now tell.

"They might, you'd have to talk to them about it. Hope you're willing to barter, though, they don't work with earth-dollars right now."

"Huh?" The Professor's glasses slipped down her nose at that mention, which was sure sign that she had been surprised by whatever just happened. "You serious, Erica?"

"Yeah. They are a real long story, but they're on the level," Erica replies calmly. "Neither side, Earth Alliance or ZAFT, they are their own force, sort of like us."

"Got it," The Professor replies. "Can I get a radio frequency?"

"181.622, same encryption, is set aside for the three ships and mobile forces to communicate with their group. Your contact is _Mjolnr_ Comms, they'll hand you off from there."

"Roger that," Liam replies, holding up a piece of scrap paper with the frequency written down.

"All right, whose ship are we resupplying first?" The Professor asks.

"_Archangel_, then _Kusanagi_, then _Eternal_ is how we planned it," Erica replies. "You have a better plan?"

"No, that should be the best," the Professor declares. "We'll begin the docking with the _Archangel_ while I give your friends a call...huh?"

"You are seeing it correct, Professor, that thing...is massive," the contact on the sensor sweep was just entering the range of the sensors, and the blip it created was itself far larger than the blips for the Three Ships and a good portion of the smaller contacts combined.

"Oh, yeah, forgot to mention. The size of their ship is, well, massive. Almost as big as a colony, but built for a totally different purpose."

"Oh, like the _Tsiolkovsky_, but...way different," the Professor declares as she realizes she was looking at a very massive ship of war after having turned a long-range camera on it. The smaller contacts were numerous Mobile Suits, larger units, and even smaller ships that looked similar to it (or at least nothing like ZAFT or Earth Alliance ships).

"Whoa, holy shit, that thing is huge!" Lowe declares. "I'd need the Gerbera Straight to even scratch that thing!"

"Well, like it or not, we have a job to do," the Professor declares. "Liam, begin the docking with the _Archangel_. I'll give that monster a call." The Professor dials in the radio combination that had been declared. "_Mjolnr_ Comms from Junk Guild ship _RE-H.O.M.E_., come back," she begins, not entirely sure if that was the right way to start a radio conversation with them."

"_RE-H.O.M.E._, this is _Mjolnr_ comms reading five by five, stand by for routing please," and though the Professor was really the only one expecting to get put on hold for a moment, none of them were expecting _Holy Diver_ by Dio as the 'elevator music' for being put on hold.

"_RE-H.O.M.E._, this is Commander Ward, duty command officer on the _Mjolnr_ at this time. How may I help you?" The speaker sounded more than a bit gruff, but definitely not pissed off. Something in his voice made Lowe think that the guy was enjoying this, whatever 'this' was. The video signal came on after a few moments, showing a sharp downward angle view onto a raised platform and a large, rather muscular guy in a gray uniform. The one thing that stood out about him was his face—a pattern of reddish-brown tattoos in several varied shapes adorned his face.

"Well, erm, we were wondering if your ships needed any resupply while we were out here...or anything we would normally sell on a barter bargain."

"Interesting offer, we were under the impression that your contract went no farther than the Three Sisters. Still, if you are offering, we may be able to work out an arrangement. You have a manifest?"

"I can transmit it electronically or have it couriered over to your ship, your choice. I also have a document covering the services our ship provides."

"Electronic version would do well," and he looks off-camera. "Comms, stand by for receive of two documents from the _Cornelius_-class," then he looks back; "What is your preference of payment? Fuel, foodstuffs, metal composites, electronics, mobile weapon parts, warships parts and salvage, or a combination?"

"You...really don't use earth dollars, do you?" Liam asks.

"No, not yet, though I do expect we shall be soon enough." It struck the Professor as a point in their favor that no mention was made of their currency, whoever they were knew they were playing a dicey game right now, caught between three separate powers and probably wanting out of it. At least they were willing to accept that fact and the knowledge that they would have to play by at least some local rules, because it was obvious they were probably not from this planet. But they were human, or appeared to be.

"I'm not going to ask where you're from," the Professor declares.

"For that you have my thanks. I am not the best on this ship at explaining it." A soldier with a leg holster and a large-frame automatic in it hands a small tablet computer to Commander Ward, then turns out of the view of the camera; Lowe could tell the person in that uniform was a lady, not a guy as the cut of her uniform would have suggested. After looking at it a moment, he flips the tab around 180 degrees, then gives it a thorough look-over that lasted about thirty seconds. "It appears that you have about another thousand tons of shelf-stable foodstuffs, a similar amount of water, and some sheet titanium that is not listed for the Three Sisters. Shall we discuss a trade?" he asks.

"I like this guy already," Lowe declares. "Got any interesting battle salvage?"

The Commander's reply caused them all to stare at the monitor, mouth agape: "Do you prefer Earth Alliance or ZAFT roadkill?"

"You must be joking, right?" Liam replies. The fashion in which he spoke made it seem as if the Commander considered ZAFT and Earth Alliance forces to be less than a threat.

"Well, you know, the Earth Alliance tried taking out the Three Sisters with their latest and greatest ship, the _Dominion_, and rather blundered into us in the process, so we had to, erm, dispatch them. Earth Alliance salvage. Halfway through that battle, a strike fleet from ZAFT showed up at our back door, so one of our commanding officers and a gunboat sunk two and sent the third packing. ZAFT salvage, and quite a bit of it; Warships leave a lot of leftovers."

"You wouldn't happen to have some of ZAFT's latest Mobile Suit, the GuAIZ, would you?" Lowe asks.

"I have three working GuAIZ and two that we're trying to fabricate necessary replacement parts for. Impressive suits, lacking in a few places but overall a good unit for a non-Gundam. How would you settle for one of the working units and the core parts of two more, in exchange for the prior requested food, water, and sheet titanium?"

"Whoa, dude, we could make a killing off those kind of parts!" Lowe half-shouts.

"Captain, we're almost docked with the _Archangel_," Liam notes.

"Lowe, Kisato, get down to the cargo bay to transfer the supplies. I'll handle things up here." In moments they were headed down to the cargo areas, which accounted for most of the bulk of the ship. "You would seriously turn that kind of hardware over to us?"

"It is simply a Mobile Suit as far as we are concerned. Better than many but hardly an earth-shattering piece of hardware," the Commander sounded more than a bit amused by how incredulous the crew of _RE-H.O.M.E._ was about the matter. "It is a proven fact that we have, in past times of our parent government, sold other nations weapon systems which we later recovered as salvage months later when the same foreign state turned those guns on us...and failed to use them properly. Arms transactions of this nature are a favored form of business among us, not for profit nor points but for just the reason I propose to you: keeping a fleet with almost 10,000 persons in it fed and watered is no simple task, and though we do most of it ourselves every little bit helps."

Given that logic, The Professor had no complaint with such an arrangement. People, even crazy-ass foreigners from she-nor-God-knew-not-where had to have food and drink, or the shit well and truly hit the fan. "Deal, Commander. You want us to come to you, or do you have transport capabilities?"

"We have small craft and MS that can do the transporting. I will have Flight Control do the directing, just tell the Controllers how you want it arranged. Anything else, milady?"

The Professor had to search her past long and hard to remember if anyone had ever called her 'milady', and came up flat zero. _They must believe in some form of old chivalry or something like that, if they're not from this world and going to help these three ships stop the war...they're fucking crazy, that's the only explanations I can come up with_, she thinks rapidly in series. "No, unless there is something else on our manifests not promised to the Three Ships that you would like to trade for?"

The Commander takes another glance at the list. "Neg, looks like everything else we shall be acquiring the hard way or already have full stores of. I think that should be it," he declares. "One other thing, though. I don't want you guys to leave here empty-handed, and that not inclusive of trades. Once you are through resupplying the ships, I would like you to pull alongside for a un-rep refuel. It is the least courtesy we can afford you for risking your lives to resupply the Three Sisters and by extension us."

"Free tank of gas for supplying the fleet?" Again, the Professor's spectacles slid down her nose.

"It is the least of courtesies for the assistance. Would that the Earth Alliance or ZAFT finds out about this arrangement, it will be your heads on pikes for this; such conduct should not go uncompensated."

Again, she came back to the thought that they had to be crazy, but the right kind of crazy to make bricks fly. "Will do, Commander, and thank you. _RE-H.O.M.E._ is over and out." After the link cuts, she sighs.

"Did he say something offensive?" Liam asks.

"No, why?"

"You are incredibly red in the face."

"Oh," the Professor gripes.

-x-x-x-

(23 July CE 71, 0300 hours UTC)

Wayne Centara sat alone in the wardroom, staring at the locked door silently, pondering his fate to an extent, but more pondering the fate of the ship and his crew than else. He was guaranteed screwed and he could live with that, yet most if not all of them deserved better, and there was practically no chance in hell of them getting better. It was this conundrum that had him by the balls, that since he was screwed the remainder was fated the same. He did not want to see his crew hammered by such a merciless fate.

_The Admiralty thought of us as jokes, expendable troops and an expendable, outdated, second-class fleet. What are we now, that we seek to become the saviors of the planet below us_? Wayne asks himself internally, never putting voice to the fate in question.

The answer was not long in coming to him, but not from where he expected: _We are the wild card, sir_, Calamira tells him telepathically. _In every deck, there are 52 standard cards, but there are always two jokers and at least one spacer. We are not rank-and-file, and we are not filler to be discarded the first time the deck is shuffled. We are the Jokers Cards_.

_You still have gambling on the brain, Calamira, that may not be the healthiest bad habit to pick up_, Wayne thinks in counter.

_It is money, in the end. I have no shortage of it, Strategic Psionics are paid far better than we could expect to really use until we retire_.

"We are the Joker cards," Wayne declares to the doors. "Wild cards, normally discarded in tournament games, but in street games used with brutal efficiency," he thinks aloud. The thought ran the same phrasing through his mind several times but never made it to his lips; he continued thinking along those lines, ignoring the sinking feeling he sometimes got on such matters.

Finally, it came out: "That is the solution," Wayne mutters. "This is no tournament game, this sure as hell is not the fucking Star Empires Wars. This is a street fight, the two biggest kids on the block tired of putting up with the other kid's shit. Such a game in cardsharp's parlance would warrant the use of wild cards and loose rules, since fights like this are free-form more than regulated or honored or venerated."

_And we are become the wild cards_, Calamira completes the thought from 500 meters away, through more than 30 meters of armored bulkhead no less.

"Indeed," he replies to Calamira, though far away she heard it. "Ai, I know you are in a pact of secrecy with this Ship's Jester, but now I need the Jester's service. And for the sorely needed morale boost and the upcoming focal point to our efforts, he deserves both recognition and a pay-raise. You know as well as I that the Marines and mechanics alone have voted the poor sod a 500 C-bill bonus, the pilots more than that. Might as well give credit where due."

The response was not short in the coming, but worth the wait. "It is not a 'he', sir. Maintenance Controller Amber Ferdeen. She uses her neural implants and a triple-pass voice-altering system to put the 'good word' out as she calls it. And I agree, morale boosting effects from her continual jibes and humor are well-received and in need of compensation."

_I confirm it, I've been supporting her for some time_, Calamira declares.

To point of proof: "Ship's Jester reporting, it is now believed that the bottom of Earth Alliance ration packs do have the phrase 'open other end' on them. This should explain a few things still in question. Thank you." Wayne could hear the coarse laughter from the Marine Barracks next door.

"All right, time to make things officially screwed of the pooch variety. Issue orders to have Commander Ward run a General Quarters Drill for the whole fleet." As he said so, he pulled a trinket from the lower-left drawer of the desk he was sitting at.

It only took fifteen seconds by Wayne's reckoning. The sound of the newly-adopted _Ghost Opera_ by Kamelot, a suggestion by an Engine Mechanic on board the _Hyperion_, started low for a few moments but once it hit the latter half of the intro there was no doubt the song was power metal through and through. It was as the artist began in on the lyrics of the song, speaking of an opera among the deceased, the final curtain call of the viewers, that Wayne stepped out and joined the torrent of personnel headed to their duty stations, including a serious rush for the bridge. When General Quarters was called, everyone moved to their duty stations, no excuses. Even if that meant showing up in bra and panties and boots, fresh out of the shower, which at least one of the flight controllers had done. Training and norms among the Magi society kept complications from that to a minimum.

"Sir, all hands show at general quarters at this time, ship is 100 percent combat ready," Commander Glenaste Ward declares. "Shall I step down the Conn?"

"Neg, retain command. My purpose here is quite simple, nothing so illustrious as to require having the conn."

"Aff, sir," Ward says.

"All right, Ladies and Gentlemen, you know my initial purpose for this fleet, and you know what our status is with the Admiralty, besides the coveted rank of dogshit, that is." Wayne waits a few moments for the chuckles to subside. "We are a joke, and yet we are a joke like no other. And now it is time for us to act like one. Ensign Amber Ferdeen," and Wayne immediately looks to her. The expression on her face, as well as the instant blushing, told Wayne that the Ship's Ai was not bullshitting him. "Or, more appropriately Ship's Jester, I should say," Wayne declares.

This time he had to wait for almost a minute for the murmurs to subside. "Sir?" she asks. "If I must, I will sub—"

"Neg, I was just going to ask you to get declare today's colors, and that I have an announcement to make. Nothing so much as to require you to resign over a 500 C-bill yearly bonus for exemplary service." and Wayne pitches her a card from a fresh card deck that had been residing in the desk of the wardroom for untold thousands of years. She deftly caught the card as it passed her head, then got the message quite clearly.

After a moment, she closes her eyes, concentrating inward on her neural implants and the link to the ship's systems. "Attention all hands, Ship's Jester reporting. Today's colors are red and black, and the Star Admiral has an important announcement regarding the fleet. So pay attention!" this was still with her modified, male voice.

"On the 1MC, please," Wayne requests. The speakers pop audibly, sure sign the system was old and could be considered abused. "All hands, this is Star Admiral Centara. Most of you have been with this ship and fleet longer than I, but it is safe to say we all know our lot in life and how the Admiralty views this fleet. We are a joke from the top down, ladies and gentlemen, a bigass farce laid on by the Admiralty Review in the blatant hope that this fleet would self-destruct or be killed off so they could justify replacing it with a newer-vintage ship right out of the dock facilities." All throughout the ship's hull echoed the choruses of boos and jeers for such conduct.

"It was once said that what happens at the Admiralty Review stays there. This time, I think I can piss on that old saw and get away with it, because _when_ we get back to Terra 02 I have every intention of suborbital bombarding the Board's building, with or without the consent of the Division Commander TechStrikers. Their callous disregard for normal procedures almost got us all killed, and that is not something I can not ignore. Simply because they do not favor this ship or this crew does not make us any more expendable than they are." Again, Wayne had to pause from the cheering, both from the remainder of the crew and the bridge staff. "They were laughing, ladies and gentlemen. I could hear the Senior Admirals and some of their staffers laughing through the doors after I was assigned to this ship. That is the measure of this fleet in their eyes; my posting here was as much a joke as anything else about us."

"A joke we are, a joke we are **not**. We fought to a standstill and destroyed over six times our numbers in the soulless Mobile Dolls, merciless and ruthless machines of war that know only the bounds programmed into them. We paid heavily, but we won and we walked away. I would love to see those fat bastards in the Admiralty achieve that." The cheering was significantly louder this time, as such a victory was literally against the odds. The Admiralty almost got their wish of a new ship and the _Mjolnr_ dead, were it not for the timely actions of Commander Ward and the Monitor Captains to move in and take the heat off the Mobile Forces.

"In further proof of our status, weeks after we arrive, we became embroiled in the local conflict de rigeur, and we have thus far acquitted ourselves as true Magi—the hands down best local Warship, hamburgered under our guns, boarded and captured by our Marines. This was followed less than an hour later by the _Absinthe_ and Century Commander Lightbringer, a single ship and a single Mobile Armor, destroying two ZAFT Warships, severely damaging a third, and destroying or disabling their mobile compliments. And they thought of us as a joke? What is the Admiralty smoking, and why are they not sharing?" Another pause, this time for the laughing. Drug use was not tolerated in the Magi touman, but it was suspected that some 'groups' of 'important individuals' did do so.

"A joke, ladies and gentlemen, or should I say, a Joker. See, I was thinking about some interesting things, and what we have become in the interim of fixing our ship. There is a parallel between our existence, our history, a street-vendor's game of cards, and a card-sharp's tournament. If our history of the bloody Star Empires Wars is equatable to a tournament, as it was after a fashion a war fought by the rulebooks of the participating Empires, then the situation we fight now is a street-game, a war without bounds and without rules, and precious few objectives at that. Keep in mind, in tournament play the Joker cards are removed from the deck and discarded, of which there is no better analogy of our fate than to be discarded by the tournament and be picked up on the streets, where the scores can really change from hand to hand. This is our fate and our reality, people. We are become the Jokers card of this war; discarded and never even issued a Fleet Designator as is proper conduct of the Admiralty, for they expected us to die and they might never even find out about it." Wayne paused, but the crew was silent for the brief moment. They could sense what was coming, but they still waited for it. "Thus, I now propose our Fleet Designator and Callsign:"

"Task Force Jokers Wild," Star Admiral Centara releases the microphone switch to the feeling of the floor around him shaking slightly as the whole crew erupted in cheering such as not heard since the _Mjolnr_'s crew learned of the end of the Star Empire Wars over 12,000 years prior.

* * *

**Author's Chapter Afterword**:

A thoroughly hectic chapter. Fun to write, such as it is, because it turned out to be a bit chaotic and scatterbrained; sometimes writing small arcs is better than writing a long chain. Things will be shaping up into the remainder of the conflict from here on out, though, so keep your eyes on the date-stamps; matters will change more and more as shall dates and times.

The introduction of the GP00 Blossom is just the first intro into mainstream mention of the MSV units and similar, as Magi are truly scavengers in this sense: if it is stupid and grossly mismatched, but an effective doctrine can be written for it, they will use it. The Blossom also jives with another principle of Magi doctrine, the respect of the long-range combatant and snipers, due to the beam rifle with the hellishly long range. The cursed model Blossom will show up in combat again, rest assured. As will even more bastardized modified units, like the Star Admiral's high-mobility Altron. And don't expect the mod groups to remain 'stock' to their universes, you could see a Kampfer with Wing Gundam's binders and a GuAIZ Beam Rifle, just as one example.

I WANT TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS, PEOPLE!!! If you have mod ideas, requests, crazy antics, officer gigging, I want to hear them. Ideas that cut the mustard may be included. There's a lot of salvage to go around, and the techs on board the Mjolnr are every bit as crazy as the techs on the Archangel. The more the merrier. So bring it on.

And now you know how the story got its title. That is actually a bad habit I picked up from Tom Clancy, just as one example the book Debt of Honor, the phrase 'Debt of Honor' is used by Jack Ryan about halfway through the book, it's almost easy to overlook it the way he couched it in what Ryan was saying, but it does make sense both then and both that the author would drop it in somewhere. Interestingly, on the same note, I do not ever remember the phrase Clear and Present Danger being used in said book, but it was clearly used in the movie (which sucked compared to the book), so it cuts both ways.

Kika's one-on-one battles and CI are far from over. I have at least one, maybe two more good ones planned before she resumes her Dendrobium for the final fight. No such thing as rest for the smartasses, trust me. And the two pirates she took down are going to have to learn the hard way that they skirted death, only to find themselves a far more bizarre fate...

NOTICE: I have set up a C2 Community for Gundam SEED, showcasing fics that qualify only for the title of 'Real War', in that the battles are more realistic and weighted than the norm for SEED. If anyone wants to have their fics reviewed to be added, or would like to join the C2 as staff to add fics, please message me. My one desire is to put the focus back on the battles of the Gundam universe, and besides my own writing this is one way to do it. Any help appreciated

'Tis pretty much all I have to mention for this chapter. Next up: ZAFT command gets word that something evil this way lurks, the ships get another good resupply, a few crazy battles ensue, and the ship undergoes major redecoration and reorganization.

* * *

**Review Replies**:

On the subject of reviews, this story is now averaging 5 reviews per chapter. That is insane, I never really thought a story like this would take off. Keep 'em coming, the more I get, the more I have plenty more ammo for the firefight :P

**Knives91**: Okay, if I may ask, what do you mean by AP Gov? You kinda lost me.

**One Village Idiot**: The _Mjolnr_, out of 200 Mobile Armors, had 4 Big Zam. One was destroyed in the battle with the Mobile Dolls, one was crippled (6 months minimum repair), the other two are functional. As to Androids and scrap, battlefield salvaging is a group effort among Magi, once the shooting is over even the Gundams get out and pick up the remaining junk. The Food and Water issue I answered to ye, but it bears repeating: these fleets have to be out and about for a year or more, and they carry large stocks of on-hand resources like food and water, a minimum of a 200-day supply for each ship and its crew compliment. And I hope this one answered where the PS Ammo stands...

**FraserMage**: Thanks for the nod to Twycross, I thought it was just a useless sandstorm-whipped planet :P Have to keep that in mind when people start expanding with JumpShips.

**EtienneOfTheWestWind**: Ghost Haros? That is a creepy thought. I'll have to keep it in mind. That reminds me, if the ship ever does regain its ability to jump, and it does jump, is the ghost left behind at the jump point or does it follow with the ship?

**Necroblade**: The Magi have a long, checkered, and very bloody past. Rest assured that you'll see hints of it in the chapters to come, as well as echoes of their mentality as the fighting gets bloody. And fret not about the BCPUs, they didn't get any action in this chapter, but they will definitely get action in the next one, and they are not completely stripped of their crazy, it will still show.

Thank you all for the reviews. The continual feedback is plenty for heart and making sure any major screwups don't fly unchecked, and for that I cannot thank you enough. Keep 'em coming, as shall I.

* * *

**The Gripe Sheet**:

Only one gripe, from **FraserMage**, and that on a side detail on background info. That mistake shall not happen again :P

Also, I now have a beta reader for the story, **Necroblade**, who has thus far caught me on several parts that I had to clean up in this chapter. Let's hope I got this one right :P

* * *

**Footnotes**:

(1): Range Gate is a principle of radar systems. Theoretically, when sent out radar signals go on forever and forever, but the system cannot be looking for those signals or it gets bad returns. Therefore, the radar system only looks for returns inside a certain timing frame, which is called the range gate. This allows the system to get the best range possible without giving false returns.

(2): Orbital plane is an astrophysics term, referring to the (relatively) flat axis upon which the planets rotate around the sun in relation to each other. Pluto is the exception to this, as Pluto has an angled and elliptical orbit around the sun. This orbital plane is often used as a reference as to movements in space, particularly when determining moving in the Y axis (where X and Z axis follow the orbital paths of the planets in a star system)

(3): Bloodheritage is an old Clan term (Battletech), strictly referring to a genetic line of one of the 500 bloodhouses that were formed among the Clans by Nicholas Kerensky after the Clans were formed. In Magi use, bloodheritage refers to a distinct family line as well as the eugenic definition.

Among the Magi it is permissible for new eugenic bloodlines to be formed by a Division Commander or higher, and this is sometimes done in place of a more traditional medal for extremely exemplary courage and service to the Empire. The founding of a bloodheritage may be contested, but only by Trial of Refusal, and that only with very strong cause to contest.

(4): Production Sustainable refers to the concept that something is simple enough to be easily and cheaply mass-produced, and soldier-proof for field operations with a low rate of failure. Production Sustainable made the difference between the mass-production units and the Gundams, just as one example among many.

(5): The Empire's Dues is a reference to the principles of the Empire: all persons are free until otherwise revoked, all persons are innocent until otherwise proven, all persons are otherwise responsible unless shown incapable. By strictly following this doctrine, the loyalty and patriotism of the Magi was and always has been the highest of the Star Empires.

(6): **F**uck **U**p **B**eyond **A**ll **R**ecognition.

(X (Below)): Durgan is the city in which the first Emperor, Eric Atrebas, was born. A more thorough explanation of that town will be covered in another story.

* * *

**Logic And Reason:** Bloodheritages and the Eugenic Program

Excerpt from the Remembrance of the Magi, Book 4, Chapter 2:

"_The prior eras closed for all time,_

_The new ways of the Empire are shown;_

_That all life, now and forever, to be protected_

_Among the Magi, by hand of the Magi._

'_That no life shall be considered alien,_

_That no life shall be considered artificial,_

_That no life process shall be denied as demonic_

_That untold generations may flourish under countless stars_

_Even unto conflict against the dissenting, the zealots.'_

_The hands that have shaped the future shall remain,_

_The soldiers who have defended forever be germane;_

_That no hand shall deny their rightful place within,_

_Shall be the Eugenics program for thine honored therein._"

Very likely as cause to the interlocking non-sequitur of the Magi society, the Clans absorbed by the Empire contributed one of their bloodiest rites to the Magi: the Eugenics program. For this reason alone, the Magi have been hailed as neo-Gods and damned as the Satan himself for their use Eugenics.

In the original (Clan) form, the Eugenic program was a two-part system. The main form of the program was simply a series of arranged marriages among the four lower castes of society to help keep the population from becoming stagnant. Though not often considered when studying the Eugenics programs of the clans, this was considered a vital part of their social engineering efforts to keep the Clan from collapsing due to lack of population or other social factors.

The prevalent part of the Clan Eugenics program is the Eugenic Gestation systems and the Sibkos. The Clans were themselves dominated by de facto dictatorship of the Warrior Caste, the crowning achievement of these being the genetically-engineered super-soldiers produced by the Eugenics Program. The Eugenics program was populated with the genetic sample of the 600 warriors who followed Nicholas Kerensky in the founding of the Clans, and with careful cross-breeding and genetic manipulation these lines were enhanced over the years to produce the best genetic stock for their purposes: soldiers of every kind. These 600 genetic lines are often called Bloodheritages, though among Magi the term is used more loosely to refer to a distinct family lineage.

Born in the gene tanks (often called Canisters), these soldiers of the Clans had intrinsic advantages over a naturally-born (freeborn) soldier in certain areas, but even at their best the Eugenics of the Clans were not such an advance over the common man that they were unstoppable. The advantages of Clansmen genetic tailoring and birthing were accentuated by the Sibko program. Effectively, the Sibko system became the family and parentage of the Eugenics, and in Clan tradition the Sibkin (those who belonged to a Sibko) were trained in their warrior's arts from a very early age. This produced stellar warriors in the final analysis, easily the better of a trainee from the Inner Sphere, but the cost of this program was that very few warriors were graduated out of each run of a Eugenics program. Of twenty birthed Eugenics, estimates range from two to eight actually making it into the ranks of a Clan's warriors. Those that were not killed in the rigorous Clan combat training or killed in their Trial of Position were demoted to an appropriate placement among the civilian castes.

The failings of this system, the inability to produce a large quantity of combat-ready skilled troops, cost the Clans dearly. In the natural history of the Clans, they suffered severe defeats when attempting to invade the Inner Sphere, which is both more populous and less stringent about the quality of their troops. When the Magi encountered the Clans, their elite tactics and technology made an impressive showing against the Magi but failed to take into account the traditional strengths of Magi in infantry tactics, fire support and support forces. Instead of utterly destroying the Clans, the Magi moved to absorb them, taking their operations over from the inside out and subverting their advances wholesale. It was this downfall of the Clans that became the first great stepping stone of the Magi into the Eugenics programs, as the facilities the Clanners had built could not be readily dismantled and in fact were seen as something of a welcome boon to the Empire.

There were calls from the religious community among the Magi to destroy the eugenics program, and to this date those complaints still exist in some groups, however the few Trials of Refusal fought over the program were partial failures and the program was continued. Due to the Refusing parties winning some parts of the Trials and not the bulk of the battles, the program was modified into something that did not guarantee the recruits a life of the soldiery. In classic Durgan (Footnote X) fashion, the Sibkos produced would train half-half, half in what would be basic soldier skills, half in civilian pursuits. The training was deliberately neutralized of all bias for or against military, so that when the Sibko reached the age of twelve the crèche participants would have the option of making a neutral choice as to their fate. Having learned the basics of both civilian and military pursuit, the leaning of the Sibkos turned out to be around 50-50, with higher percentages for the pro-military choice during active times of conflict.

The Program was modified outside its original constraints during the heady years of the Star League, with certain crèches dedicated to different fields of research in genetic manipulation, creating a new genesis of engineering techniques that allowed for more drastic changes than even the Clans dreamed of. Combined with the Respire Accords, the Eugenics Program became a decentralized entity that anyone could participate in and run their own so long as they met the minimum guidelines for operating a crèche, and so long as the requirements placed on the Sibkos thus created did not exceed one quarter the Term Of Bond regulations. With this changing of policy, genetic experimentation was allowed to take on its own paths separate of the Empire's more militaristic aims and the corporations were allowed into the 'field of dreams' as many called it. It also served to increase the net population of the Empire and also drastically increased the genetic diversity of the populations on inhabited worlds. By the year SL-355, the Corporate sector had begun their first gestations of non-Empirical Eugenics.

The Empire itself still ran the Core Eugenics Program, but immediately after the signing of the Respire Accords, that program was immediately dwarfed by the external commercial entities who had their own purposes and aims. Just as with the Empire's program, the dominant intended mindset did not win out; the Commercial Eugenics sibkos showed around the same tendency toward military and civilian pursuits as the Empire Eugenics, though capabilities varied more wildly than freeborn military personnel and some adjustments had to be made in training standards to account for those variances. The greatest known advantage of this program was actually seen down the road from the beginning, as statistics started cropping up that showed cases of terminal diseases and infectious diseases were dropping significantly among the Empire's population, to the point of annihilation of certain forms of influenza as a threat to the Empire or its citizens. This is often considered one of the major reasons of Negaverse jealousy toward the Magi, and is also considered one of the greatest reasons why the Star League was destroyed by the Negaverse, to prevent the peaceful pursuit of Eugenics and therefore lessen the chances of Magi somehow gaining even more extreme advantage over the other Star Empires.

After the end of the Star Empire Wars, a call came up from (wonder of wonders) the religious community again to abolish the Eugenics programs as no longer needed. Citing the many benefits of society that the bloc of artificially-gestated persons had provided to the Empire over the millennia, and citing their failures in previous Trials of Refusal, the Emperor disabused them of their request. This led to the 'Bloody Canisters' incident, where a disaffected religious cult with otherwise incomprehensible beliefs attacked a commercial Biotech research crèche and killed everyone, including the unborn Sibko, by using armor-piercing heavy rifles and lasers to shoot through the Canisters (artificial wombs). Casualties numbered over a thousand, including 300 in gestation in the Eugenics Facility that was attacked. In so doing, the Empire's overall attitude became hardened against the 'Bio-Terrorists' and the religious nuts who did their utmost to obfuscate or eliminate Eugenics, and after the elimination of the White Star terrorist group that performed the attacks, the Eugenics program was granted an 'immune' status, thereby it could not be defunded or canceled without a full win in a Trial of Refusal.

It is widely believed that wholly 40% of the Empire's population is Eugenic by birth, and at least 85% of the remainder has at least some ancestry of Eugenics.

* * *

TRO SECTION

In today's TRO Corner, I have a BT interpretation for the GP00 Blossom that I whipped up, if any of you are brave enough to do Gundams in Battletech here is one to drop in on those poor Clanners :P

**BattleMech Technical Readout**

**Type/Model**: Gundam GP00 'Blossom' RX-78GP00

**Tech: **Mixed Tech / 3060

**Config: **Biped BattleMech

**Rules: **Level 3, Standard design

**Mass: **80 tons

**Chassis: **Anaheim Electronics Composite (C/ES)

**Power Plant: **Anaheim 400 XL Fusion (C)

**Walking Speed: **54.0 km/h

**Maximum Speed: **75.6 km/h

**Jump Jets: **6 Improved Jump Jets

**Jump Capacity: **180 meters

**Armor Type: **Anaheim Heavy Composite (Hardened)

**Armament:**  
2 Beam Sbr / Gun Cmbos*(C)  
1 MPIWS Bloodhound Probe (IS) 

**Manufacturer: ** Anaheim Electronics Corp.  
**Location: ** (Multiple)  
**Communications System: ** GP-Series 01A  
**Targeting & Tracking System: **GP-Series 01A 

**Overview:**

The prototype unit for the GP series Gundams made by Anaheim Electronics, the Blossom turned out to be a veritable Pandora's box of problems for the development team in the end. On the other hand, the GP00 provided the team with much-needed hard data to use on the succeeding GP units, breathing life into a project that seemed destined for the paper shredder and junk heap.

**Capabilities:**

The GP00 'Blossom' can be best described as a Jack of all Trades and failure at most. The annals of Anaheim history illustrate it as a machine that tried to do too much with too little, eventually overwhelming the pilot and causing the destruction of the prototype and the death of the test pilot. Despite this, the GP00 was still picked up by the Magi and several other Star Empires to be used at the least as a long-range shooter during the long and bloody Star Empires Wars.

The main feature of the Blossom is its variability. For starters, the machine is designed with the same core block concept as the original RX-78 Gundam, meaning that if needed it can separate into three pieces and replace damaged parts with a new one, or even can break off the MS modules and go it alone as nothing but a fighter. To add to this sense of 'all trades' capability, the Blossom is set up with two drum-type modular hardpoints on its back, to which various mission gear can be attached. This can be either weapon-class gear or non-weapon gear, such as the MPIWS sensor system.

The primary configuration of this gear is as a long-range hunter-killer, mounting a special sensor dome over the left shoulder and a heavy long-range beam rifle behind the right shoulder, giving it unprecedented ability to detect and fire on enemy MS at as much as twenty times their optimal striking range. Other configurations of the gear exist, but these are personal modifications; much as the Naga Omnimech of Clan fame, so little interest exists for this unit among the Magi that modifications to it are rare at best, and almost always to personal specification.

In defensive therms, the GP00 has the best non-shield defensive arrangements of all the GP Series, counting strictly defense and not maneuverability. The Blossom comes standard with 26.5 tons of advanced composite armor, which cuts back on the maneuverability of the unit on the ground and reduces raw thrust from the onboard jets, but this is seen by Magi as less of a weakness than it is a capital strength, since even the vaunted king of ground operations, the Assault Omnimech, cannot kill a Blossom Gundam in one stroke. The sheer size of the Blossom guarantees its ability to take a beating and keep walking, as the 80 tons of dedicated frame put it heavier than most 'mechs and Mobile Suits ever deployed in quantity, meaning that the Blossom can literally pick up light 'mechs and toss them around, if not as well as the infamous Atlas.

The crowning feature of the Blossom is its special sensor system, something that appears in every standard and custom configuration thus far deployed: the Minovsky Particle Interference Wave Searcher. Effectively an over-large minovsky-influence sensor system, it works on the same principle as the old Magnetic-Influence sensor systems that aircraft carried to detect submarines below the waves. Since it is not using a directed pulse of radar energy but is determining object makes and locations by way of Minovsky Particle influence in the areas searched, the sensors have a far greater range and sensitivity, and can even be used to a limited extent to find hidden units in debris fields. The net result is a sensor system easily capable of detecting MS and Warships at ranges well exceeding the distance their own sensors can detect the Blossom. The major downside to this system is it, like the rest of the Blossom, seems to be 'cranky' and prone to failures at random intervals.

Anaheim has, over the years, worked on improving the design dramatically to improve reliability, and their efforts have met with mixed results. As of the start of the Second Star League, the Blossom still suffers from a reputation for being the generally crankiest Gundam of all, with special props given to the beam Sniper Rifle, which can have any number of component failures in the middle of a firefight, or the MPIWS in particular, which is widely known as the best unreliable sensor system ever to exist. The engine of the Blossom takes the third place distinction of cranky systems, as certain parts of the cooling system are prone to failure if put under load and can cause the whole engine to overheat and shut down, or if pushed too hard past the failure point it can explode, assuredly killing the pilot and leaving not much opf the Gundam to pick up afterwards. If any one entity can solve the problems with the Blossom's main systems, they may have the ultimate extreme-long-range combat mobile suit on their hands.

**Battle History:**

The battle history of the Blossom is itself so lackluster and cursed that the few hundred produced a year for the Magi have not really earned themselves a notable reputation.

On the other hand, those pilots who are brave enough to pilot this unit for five successive battles are usually given a medal and a pay raise for surviving that long in the cursed unit. As such, the craziest and most disciplined of Magi pilots will occasionally take upon themselves the Blossom as something of a challenge of merit to prove that they have the most guts in their hangar area or unit. Surprisingly, the frequency of this award being handed out is actually rather high, even despite the stigma the machine bears.

**Variants:**

There are no official variants of the Blossom or its weapons loadouts. Any such modifications are field-expedient mods to better suit the preferences of the pilot rather than anything official.

**Notable 'Mechs & MechWarriors:**

None listed for this unit.

**Deployment**

The Blossom is an exceedingly rare Gundam, on the order of the Wing Zero and Epyon machines in terms of rarity, but for a far different reason. It is in use by only three of the six Star Empires, the Magi, the Negaverse (who will not allow any Magi Gundam deployed to go uncopied), and the Dark Moon (who use it primarily as a fleet sniper unit, almost never on the ground).

In Empires where Gundam production is measured in the millions per year, that this design receives a couple hundred units built over a fiscal year is a credit to the perversity of bureaucratic inertia and how it can keep an otherwise deceased unit going well past its perceived prime.

BATTLETECH SPECIAL RULES

The Beam Sabers listed in the TRO equipment double as beam guns. Each has a damage factor of 15 points in beam saber or beam gun mode, beam saber qualifies as a melee weapon and follows all applicable rules, as a beam gun it has ranges of 3-6-10-12. No to hit bonus or penalty as beam guns, but using as a beam saber the player gets a +1 bonus on his clubbing attack roll. Both modes generate ten heat when in use, the system generates four heat due to charging when in storage in shoulders.

The MPIWS acts (and is shown as) a Bloodhound Active probe, but has a maximum range of 1000 hexes on the ground and forty hexes in space. Additionally, in space, if using debris fields, units cannot hide in debris clusters from a MPIWS-equipped unit if the searching unit is within ten hexes.

The Beam Sniper Rifle is an external armament for purposes of weapon considerations. This weapon is considered to be an energy weapon (PPC), has ranges of 40-80-120-160 on the ground and uses the naval fire brackets in space with a maximum range of extreme. The weapon causes 35 points of standard scale damage per hit, and like any energy weapon this is doubled against non-heat-resistant units such as standard MS (with standard armor) and any Gundam that is not armored in Gundarium or Gundanium. The weapon produces no heat to the MS (as it is an external, self-contained weapon) and can be fired once every turn. The BSR is considered to have three tons standard armor for purposes of taking fire from enemies.

If used in space, the Blossom acts as a fighter with 4/6 thrust and is considered to have six tons of fuel. For purposes of recording, just list the fuel in the Btech sheet's margins and roll hits as if it was a battlemech instead of a fighter.

In any configuration or environment, the GP00 takes standard damage from ballistic, missile, and impact weapons, but takes double damage from beam or energy weapons (including beam sabers).

* * *

**Type/Model: Gundam GP00 'Blossom' RX-78GP00**

**Mass: **80 tons

Equipment:  
Crits, Mass

**Internal Structure: **122 pts Endo Steel (C)  
7, 4.00

(Endo Steel Loc: 1 HD, 2 LA, 2 RA, 1 LT, 1 RT)

**Engine: **400 XL  
10, 26.50

**Walking MP: **5

**Running MP: **7

**Jumping MP: **6

**Heat Sinks: **10 Double (C) [20]  
0, 0.00

**Gyro:  
**4, 4.00

**Torso-Mounted Cockpit, Life Support, Sensors: **  
6, 4.00

**Actuators: **L: Sh+UA+LA+H, R: Sh+UA+LA+H  
16, 0.00

**Armor Factor: **Hardened(C)  
0, 26.50

* * *

**Internal ****Structure, Armor ****Value**

**Head: **3, 9

**Center Torso: **25, 35

**Center Torso (Rear): **(0), 4

**L/R Side Torso: **17, 25/25

**L/R Side Torso (Rear): **(0),3/3

**L/R Arm: **13, 24/24

**L/R Leg:** 17, 30/30

* * *

Weapons & Equipment:  
Loc, Heat, Ammo, Crits, Mass

1 Beam Sbr / Gun Cmbo* (C)  
RA, 10, 0, 1, 0.50

1 Beam Sbr / Gun Cmbo* (C)  
LA, 10, 0, 1, 0.50

1 Bloodhound Probe (IS)  
LT(R), 0, 0, 3, 2.00

6 Improved Jump Jets:  
(Jump Jet Loc: 2 LT, 2 RT, 1 LL, 1 RL)  
3, 0, 12, 12.00

**TOTALS: **

**20 Heat**

**60 Crits  
**

**80.00 Tons  
**

**Crits & Tons Left:**

18 Crits

0.00 Tons

* * *

Calculated Factors:

**Total Cost: **25,148,939 C-Bills

**Battle Value: **1,946

**Cost per BV: **12,923.4

**Weapon Value: **3,123 / 3,123 (Ratio = 1.60 / 1.60)

**Damage Factors: **SRDmg = 23; MRDmg = 5; LRDmg = 0

**BattleForce2:**

**MP:** 5J, **Armor/Structure:** 5/5

**Damage PB/M/L:** 5/3/-, **Overheat:** 0

**Class:** MA, **Point Value:** 19

**Specials: **prb

NOTE: Battle Value DOES NOT include the Sniper Beam Rifle or any other external weapons, which under Battletech Level 3 Rules are calculated separately and added to the machine's BV in the same way that C3 bonuses are added.


	9. Changing Winds Of Fate

(Joker's Wild Set 1, Chapter 9: Changing Winds of Fate)

* * *

(Author's Note: As of this document, I am now changing spelling to canon anime and GundamOfficial website spellings instead of manga spelling (particularly Yakin Doe to Jachin Due and Aube to Orb). This is to standardize between research and other fics to avoid confusion.)

(23 July CE71, 0500 hours)

Contrary to what Calamira thought would happen, Cagalli had actually been confined to the brig by Colonel Kisaka for being somewhere she should have known better not to be in. So, fuming all the same, Cagalli and Calamira were assigned to a bunk bed cell in the brig nearest the bridge along with a couple other bridge staff that had been captured in the casino. It was something of a laughable outcome according to the Earth Alliance prisoners in the same area, seeing as they had been all alone with only the Marines to keep them company. Most Marines on guard duty are not by nature chatty people, thus the standing derision for them.

The Star Admiral's speech got some boos from the Earth Alliance Officers, but not all participated in that. Commander Badgiruel in particular simply listened, and even without checking Calamira could tell she got the message loud and clear: the _Mjolnr_ was less than impressed with the quality or quantity of Earth Alliance forces. Calamira and Cagalli both could tell she found it a bit disheartening to know the Earth Alliance was not only so disliked by ZAFT but also warranted little consideration as a threat from the Magi, whom she had not heard about until Captain Ramius told her their name. The fact that the _Dominion_ had been practically disassembled by a Mobile Armor drive-by assault and a few shots from two Monitors (by far not their largest ships) simply reinforced their disdain for the Earth Alliance, and after a fashion justified it. _The Earth Alliance definition of 'acceptable' would not have cut it on the horrid battlefields that these Magi fellows trained for_, Natarle thinks crassly, loud enough that Calamira could pick it up with little effort. Calamira restrained her comment, however, since both knew she was right.

"Question," Cagalli prompts of her cell-mate, Calamira.

"Hit me," Calamira replies immediately.

"If you do make it home, what happens to your ship?"

"If we make it home," and Calamira put a rough strain on 'if' in her opening; "We get the luxury of telling the Empire that we are at war again. It is unlikely that we will get our chance for revenge for the major screwup with the Admiralty Review with a war going on, but someday, somehow, we will get our vengeance. That is provided that the people around here don't kill themselves off with various nuclear weapons, of course. If Terra goes to shit, the _Mjolnr_ will last maybe two years at best, far less than enough time to fix our jump core."

"Oh;" Cagalli knew that the Magi were afraid of nukes being used here for some reason, but that put a whole different spin on things. They weren't concerned about such weapons being used on them (A nuke had to be _inside_ a spaceborne object to cause catastrophic damage), they were concerned about the massive losses of life associated with indiscriminate use of nuclear arms.

"Well, maybe we can make it out toward the gas giants, they should have resources usable by us, but not a lot," Calamira corrects herself. "I still don't think we'll be able to fix our jump core without assistance and people from around here, but it may be doable."

Cagalli was silent for several minutes, before: "What is it like? Other worlds? Are they as different as—"

"They are all that you imagine and more," Calamira replies. "Millions of worlds per galaxy are habitable, millions more by way of special equipment or space colonies. The universe will be laid open to those with the will to reach out and touch the stars. Just a matter of effort."

This one Commander Badgiruel could not resist: "Why are you throwing away your one advantage over the other states here by giving it to them?"

Cagalli was a bit shocked that such a question had come into play at all. Calamira, less so; she figured that someone would consider it an advantage whereas it was only a method of transportation as far as the Magi concerned over it. "An advantage is something held by one side against some or all others, Commander. Not only do five other Star Empires hold the same 'advantage' as we, their ship designs are less combat oriented and cost considerably less, therefore they have more cross-dimensional Jumpships per capita than the Magi. A Jumpship is no advantage, it is simply transportation. A Superdreadnought is a temporary advantage, one I think ZAFT will try to match within the decade, yet even such massive ships can be beat out under the right circumstances. No, Commander, our advantage is the soul of the Magi, the belief of life and honor that will always beat out hatred, regardless of how many thousands of years it takes to win in the end."

Natarle's snort was audible from the other side of the hall. "I can't believe a serious, powerful military entity like you would believe that;" she was more referencing the Magi than either the ship or Calamira directly, but any of the above applied almost equally.

"No, Commander, you cannot believe that a rigid-command, completely-top-down military entity would believe that, and in such a case you would be correct. The Magi command structure is a lot more flexible, with more authority centered lower on the chain of command as opposed to everything up at the top. Therefore, such belief as honor and life factors into all operations the Magi undertake."

"That is insane," The Commander declares. "how can you follow a plan if anyone can give or receive orders?"

"And how can you follow an operations plan issued by an immoral command structure?" Strangely, this was from a Marine that was on roving brig patrol and had wandered down to where the talking was at. "Every now and again you need to check yourself and make sure your humanity and honor are still in place and in working order, otherwise you damn yourself to your actions and such consequences, Commander Badgiruel. After all, Blue Cosmos basically runs the Earth Alliance and it was they who issued the orders to launch a nuclear attack on Junius Seven. Keep in mind that while the war you think you fight is righteous, their purpose is nothing but mass murder."

"I—" Natarle begins, but does not complete her sentence.

"I was born in a colony around the planet Huntress." He was looking at the cellblocks down the brig hall, not at Natarle. "You can prate about the righteousness of your cause all you want, but keep in mind less than 1000 of the persons killed were military. You do not win wars by killing civilians, you win a war by doing the right thing."

"There is...no, I must argue that," Natarle replies staunchly. "The right thing is dictated by your superiors. You win the war by following what your superiors want you to. Make sense, Marine?" Natarle asks.

"Aff, justly so," the Marine replies. "Now define 'superiors' please. For my superiors all follow a chain of command leading ultimately to the Empress, and every station on that chain of command has to answer for his or her personal actions as to whether or not they are just, honorable and moral. How far does your responsibility go?" the Marine asks in retort.

Natarle had to admit to herself that such an argument blew her out of the waters, such as they were. There was little authority she had in terms of making moral decisions or verifying that those above her were making their orders were moral.

"If a Magi officer is shown to have done something dishonorable and is not eliminated for their transgression right then and there, they are removed from the command structure of the operation and go through the various Trials for their misdeeds," Calamira clarifies for the Earth Alliance officers in the room. "For us, there is no room for guesswork, everything has to be done reasonably and effectively. After you have had no less than two or more than five Star Empires trying to annihilate you down to the last man, woman and child, you will understand the need for honor."

Natarle knew she had lost for sure. The Earth Alliance was trying to survive, not necessarily win the war, as was ZAFT. The combination could only get bloody fast, and now she understood why. Nobody was trying to do the right thing, except her former CO and this collection of seeming misfits from a whole different world.

"Justice indeed," Natarle mutters before laying back to rest. She knew she lost but was still not completely convinced the Earth Alliance was wrong, or more properly was any more wrong than the PLANTs and certainly not as _freaking insanely naïve_ as the Magi.

-x-x-x-

(25 July CE 71, 1650 hours)

"And this is what I've come up with," Shani replies as he shows the diagram in the holotank in their pilot's barracks. It had taken him a few hours to figure the holos out, but once done using it to model a decent casino was easy. "This is a composite of all three of our ideas, since I really couldn't come up with something these two didn't already."

"An impressive concept," Captain Jamestown replies as the diagram highlighted the various attractions of the proposed cargo-bay-size gameroom. The twist on Shani's plan was that it was tri-level and it still had room for more cargo in said bay, which well outstripped any other plans on the table. "I think the Star Admiral needs to see these," he concludes after verifying all the 'big ones' were in the facility in question. "Come on, shall we take a walk?"

"Oh man," Shani half-moans.

"Now look what you got us into," Oruga declares.

"Nah, this'll be fun," Clotho replies.

Of the three pilots, only Clotho so far really 'got it'. He understood that the system (the Magi way) was designed as a low-level self-correcting entity—there was no need for a massive government infrastructure to control and pacify the people because the people collectively corrected themselves. Oruga was stuck wondering if the whole thing was some sort of joke, or if it was all going to collapse in on itself in some sort of ghastly macabre black hole suck effect. Shani rode the line in between, not convinced it would fail, not convinced it would succeed given the notorious 'assholiness' of the Earth Alliance.

Shani found himself leaning more and more toward it would work, given the people he was now working with were singularly crazier than he was. After all, it is not often that one meets humans from a totally different line of history who settle things in the circle of honor and start their otherwise normal pilots in the field at sixteen. The existence of the Magi was a feat in and of itself as far as he was concerned, it had become the masterful stroke that assured Shani wasn't going anywhere but wherever this ship was headed. If that meant headfirst into the Earth Alliance and ZAFT, oh well. If that meant sideways through Hell headed ass-first toward Breakfast, again, oh well, Shani would still follow the _Mjolnr_ wherever it went. He just wasn't convinced it was going to work.

Everyone was counting coup on the much-changed spirit of the _Mjolnr_. The Star Admiral had started the trend by requesting bids from personnel for a casino to be set up in an unused cargo bay, with bonus props awarded to the more games available and the ability to have extra cargo in the facility after the rest was set up. A classic example of Magi spirit for themes was clearly evident as the three pilots and the new captain of the _Dominion_ exited their barracks on the _Mjolnr_, as a long streamer of cards had been run down the length of the main corridor and could be seen going both ways without end. Gerald Lightbringer was even in on the 'decking out' of the ship, as he was controlling the bids for the new task force insignia, which had to include the Joker theme. Clotho had submitted a bid to that as well, but since his submission wasn't too terribly inspired he was not expecting anything there.

As the four moved forward toward the bridge where the Star Admiral was likely to be (he was still listed as the duty Conn officer at this time), they passed a pair of aerofighter pilots that were converting one of the strangely blank walls of the _Mjolnr_'s central corridor (1) into a classic mural of the dogs playing a game of cards around a table (2). Oruga figured that some of the other blank spots would be painted in appropriate mural of the battles to come, since the propensity for glorious ass-kicking was coming and coming quickly. Fifty meters down the hallway from the painters, a table was outside a room and in the hall with three persons sitting at it and three chairs open, an open invitation to off-duty persons to stop and have a quick game or two of poker. Shani had learned that open invitational card games were not uncommon among the Magi, but usually they were kept inside a room and not out in the hallway. Screwing off on duty, however, was not permitted and only off-duty personnel would join the game at hand.

Eight hundred meters and a few other painting crews later, they were at the bridge of the _Mjolnr_ at the extreme front end of the ship. "Captain Jamestown and three to speak to the Star Admiral, low priority," the Captain declares to the Marine in front of the door. It was always the same, Marines guarded the important parts of the ship against unauthorized entry, which Clotho had learned was **not** standard practice. Apparently the Marines did not truly trust the _Archangel_'s crew, just as the _Archangel_ did not completely trust the Magi personnel. What the _Archangel_ had to lose since the _Dominion_ had been captured and recommissioned by the Magi was a bit lost on the pilots, but such facts and procedure always came at face value in military operations. Who knew what one's allies were capable of when the enemy already wanted your ass on a pike?

"Nothing going on, Captain, should be clear now. Head on in," the Marine trips the doors to the bridge for the quad to enter.

The typical chaos of the bridge hit them when the three pilots entered. At any given time, unless battle stations were called, there was no less than a dozen conversations going on, including both operational and personal conversations (the most notorious were the flight controllers, who when not giving orders to their unit sections were known to make personal calls on the ship's equipment). "This place...does it ever cease to be chaotic?" Oruga asks nobody in particular.

"Neg, not at all," Captain Jamestown replies. "As far back as I was marooned on this ship, it has always been like this. It gets worse when we deploy ground forces, as Galaxy Commanders invariably use Flight Control as their communications switchboard instead of their own communications sections."

"There's a reason for that, though, the ship has better comm gear than a ground-bound command vehic—ALLLE!" Shani , who was holding the outside right of the marching group, was watching the Helmsman and the Suborbital Officer trade rude and threatening gestures instead of where he was walking. In so doing he stumbled over the legs of tech who was half-buried in one of the flight control consoles, collapsing over one of the flight controllers and slamming his forehead into the leg of another.

"Ow! That freakin' hurt!" the controller he slammed with his head half-shouts.

"Oh my, going for two at once, pilot? You've got balls playing that kind of game," the controller he was doubled over declares. "Huh—hey, Mina, isn't he one of yours?" the first of them asks the one that Shani had slammed with his head.

"Yeah, Shani Andras, pilot of the Forbidden," she replies drolly. "This is not a good way to start a professional relationship, pilot," she declares.

"I'll pa—AAAAAASSS!" Shani declares in two tones, the second as someone unceremoniously picked him up off the two flight controllers by the back of his shirt.

"Sorry about that, Controllers. This pinhead tripped over my legs," Oruga realized that the legs he had seen coming out of a console were the same legs supporting over two meters and over 125 kilos of technician. A technician that, as far as Oruga was concerned, should have been a Marine given how large he was. "Watch where you're walking, flyboy, you almost caused me to cook a whole console in your attempt to faceplant in marshmallow hell." Not a moment thereafter Shani was reunited with the titanium deck of the _Mjolnr_, though not being ready for it promptly tripped over his own feet and this time landed in the open area between the two walls of consoles. "Fracking pilots, too busy looking up and out..." the rest of his sentence was lost to the bridge as he slid back into the console, leaving just his boots and part of his calves visible to those outside it.

"Smooth dump, ex-lax, looks like I'm not the only one capable of screwing up my chances of getting a date," Clotho declares as Shani clamors to his feet, attempting to prevent himself losing any more face in this social disaster.

"I wasn't trying," Shani replies before turning to the Controllers and apologized for landing on them. Both acknowledged it, but only the one that Shani had headbutted on the leg held the tone that she thought it was an accident.

"Damn, this is not going to be a simple problem to solve," they heard the Star Admiral speaking to their supreme commander, Century Commander Gerald Lightbringer. "Under wartime considerations, denying Mass Drivers to the Earth Alliance is a no-brainer—even the Gigafloat can be considered a stationary target relative to the _Mjolnr_, and I rest assured Esmeralda can take care of it," he grouses almost gutturally.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Star Admiral, I'll be sure to send you a Christmas card this year," the said Chief Warrant Officer declares in a momentary pause from her trading obscene gestures and insults with the helmsman. The Star Admiral simply waves her off, not replying verbally.

"The problem is denying them the Mass Drivers during noncombat season, right?" Gerald asks. "Okay, give me a few days and I'll come up with a way to do it without blowing our own foot off. You do realize, though, unless we get Dropships moving fast, this is going to cause a shitload of economic problems for everyone, especially the PLANTs?"

"A _Guild II_-Class freight hauler can more than compensate for a Mass Driver that can maybe put ten thousand in orbit on its own. Remember, until Orb ramps up the _Izumo_-class production, twenty thousand is the practical limit for their shoot speed for the rail launchers. Just get me plans to deny space travel to anyone, and a report on how likely we may be required to use it."

"You don't like this thought, do you?" Gerald asks as the four settle into a bit of waiting.

"No, I do not like it in any fashion, but if someone wants a shooting war up here in space, and their ass is centered on Terra Firma below, keeping them on planet is the most assured way to make sure they are little more than obnoxious miscreants incapable of reaching us." Wayne Centara looked to the deck after a moment, then back up to his immediate subordinate Gerald. "Sometimes, the best victory condition is to deny the enemy his victory conditions."

"Right, boss, I'll see about strangling this snake without Magi hands visibly involved. By your leave, sir?" Gerald asks.

"Thanks. How's Angel One doing with the Blossom?"

"Kika and a few of the crazier engineers have it just about dialed in and ready. Should be good to go in a day or two," Gerald notes.

"Excellent, I will have a pilot ready for it in about the same time frame. I look forward to your plans, Gerald," Wayne declares as an offhand dismissal. Gerald came to attention as was proper and then was down off the command platform without another word.

Though, Gerald did have a word for Shani as he passed him: "Nice faceplant, pilot," he says without even breaking stride or a smirk. Only then did Shani realized that Gerald would have had a perfect view to his unexpected flight, which only made things worse inside the confines of his own mind.

"Still don't get it, do ye?" Captain Jamestown asks.

"Get what?" Shani asks.

"You're the only person here that gives a crap about the propriety of the situation. The average Mage just brushes himself or herself off, apologizes and gets off with it. Err, gets _on_ _with_ it," he corrects his own slip. "Stop worrying, and I suggest you accept the offer for a round of drinks. Free beer is by definition good beer."

"And people swear I am crazy," Clotho declares.

"Shani Andras, please contact the bridge within the next 3-0 minutes," the Star Admiral orders over the intercom.

"Erm, Star Admiral, he stands right behind you," Captain Jamestown declares.

"Huh?" Wayne turns around from his task and realizes that the said pilot was indeed behind him. "Whoa—oh, wait, that was you?" and he points in the general direction of the Flight Controllers he had unceremoniously 'conflicted with' a few moments prior.

"Aff, Star Admiral," Shani replies immediately, his face immediately changing colors to red from sheer embarrassment.

"Impressive," Wayne replies. "Incredibly direct, but impressive nonetheless. Regardless, do you have your submission for the casino?"

It had started with the busting of not one but a total of three illicit casinos that had taken over two shower rooms and a Marine Barracks. Nothing more would have come of it, except that one of the Marines involved in the first casino busted had declared that there were far more people involved than they would ever track down and brig for it. Wayne, himself on the 'rogue' side of the sliding scale of order versus chaos, knew that the Marine in question was right and catching them all was impossible. So, Wayne co-opted them with their own ambitions by putting out a contract bid request for an official Casino design. Only ten were in the running, the AI filtering out designs that, though well-intentioned, did not meet the contract criteria. Shani's design passed the filtering and was the only one outstanding at the time, given that Wayne had not called anyone but him.

"I thought I uploaded it, sir," Shani replies.

"AI?" Wayne asks.

"One moment," the holoprojector fades out, then back in with a rotating display of Shani's tri-level monstrosity. "On the central projector," she declares.

"Whoa," Wayne replies, looking through the projected list of what was in it compared to the contract requirements.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time, sir," Shani replies defensively, thinking that he was about to get hammered on...

...which never happened. "Three levels...everyone else did two or four, two levels does not allow for cargo, four makes things too cramped vertically. Why three?"

"Just that, sir, I didn't want any Elementals banging their heads off the roof if they started jumping for joy," Shani replies quite honestly. Oruga thought it a joke and started cracking up.

The Star Admiral did not think it a joke, however; "It looks like you also have all the requested entertainment in the contract, and then some. I would like to know how you knew about the bathroom shower stall gag that the first casino had, word is you three were never in there," Wayne says, since Shani's plan had included an official version thereof that was not jury-rigged out of shower stalls.

"Erm, I heard rumors from some of the patrons that weren't caught?" Shani replies, again truthfully.

"I'll buy that," Wayne replies. "So, any other comments you want to add about your submission?"

"Erm, I hope it doesn't suck, sir?" Shani replies incredibly nervously. His paranoia curve had gone apeshit ballistic and the Star Admiral's tone was the only reason he could think why. After a moment he realized the Star Admiral sounded like some of his instructors back in Lodonia.

Wayne could sense he just pushed a hot button, and relented immediately: "You can rest assured it does not. It will be a few hours before the winner is declared, not to make you sweat for it but I have several other things to deal with. You will receive a vid-mail before I announce the project and winner."

"Understood...sir," Shani replies with a little more gusto, since his paranoia curve had dropped back a few.

"Anything else, gentlemen?" Wayne asks.

"No, sir," all three pilots reply.

"All right, keep out of trouble. Would no bode well for you to get brig time during your victory. Dismissed, excepting you Soritz, I have some things I need you to go over and verify."

"Aye, Star Admiral," Shani, Oruga, and Clotho come to attention and turn smartly to leave, though Captain Jamestown did not follow as he had been requested.

"Kickass, Shani, you didn't embarrass yourself this time," Oruga notes as they were on the way out of the Bridge. Pilots tended to avoid hanging around the command and control sections for some strange reason, and the three Abtahka from the _Dominion_ were no exception.

"What caused you to clam up like you were about to shit a brick, Shani?" Clotho asks after they were well outside the bridge.

"Something...the Star Admiral's voice reminded me of one of the instructors at our training. One that always punished us, practically never praised."

"Chill the fuck out, Shani," Clotho declares. "This ain't Earth Alliance territory, unless they have us so drugged up that all three of us are imagining the same damned thing."

"In which case, since we took 'the red pill' we're all fucked anyways." Oruga was referring to a movie they had watched yesterday after they were off flight line standby, called _The Matrix_. It was freaky shit to them, really had them thinking about the meaning of life and whether or not it was all just some made-up bullshit to pacify people being used essentially as replacement for batteries. If so, the AI entities controlling the world's programs had a hellish sense of humor to write up a history and involvement like the Star Empire Wars, much less the Bloody Valentine War that they were part of in the here-and-now, but they all saw through it. If the events of the movie were reality, it would not do well for the AI entities to tip their hand with a movie written about their own activities, unless something else was going on...

"Don't get me started, we just had one Existential near-meltdown, I don't need another before I see the rest of the series," Shani orders.

"Right, gotcha," Oruga replies. "Anyways, we play this one hard and fast, we get the chance to seriously fuck up those sadists that ran us through the ringer in training. You were Lodonia, right Shani?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Northwest America, Clotho and I. I'd love to visit my Alma Mater with my upgraded Calamity..." Oruga replies in a snide tone of voice, meaning not 'visit' but 'annihilate the staff, extract the students, level the facilities and piss on the graves of the sadist instructors he had suffered through' in one word.

"Would be fun," Clotho replies. Using an equivalent toroidal fusion reactor to the battery system in his Raider Gundam gave him both a mass reduction and a speed increase above and beyond the near-limitless power generated by the engine. There was also talk of implementing a new, experimental engine technology in it that would increase power output of the engine by as much as 5000 percent, meaning that his one Gundam could run a sizable portion of the North American power grid and still have enough power to move, fight and annihilate opposition.

"We may get that chance if the Earth Alliance doesn't play nice," Shani replies coldly. "C'mon, let's go talk to Bud and his crew about the new engines," he says as they walk past the turnoff for the docking collar to the _Dominion_ and instead head toward the hangar where their Gundams were being modified.

-x-x-x-

(26 July CE 71, 0600 PLANT Standard Time)

(ZAFT Military Station, Command Center Area)

"Commander Rau Le Creuset and one to brief the Chairman as requested," Creuset declares as both he and Yzak stop at the doors.

"The Chairman is expecting you, Commander," the door guard declares before knocking and pushing the door open slightly. "Chairman Zala, I have Commander Creuset and one to speak to you," he declares.

"Send them in," Yzak hears from the far side. The guard opens the door the whole way for the two, Yzak hesitating long enough for Creuset to step forward and enter first. Once inside, the guards closed the doors to protect the secrecy of what they were about to discuss. Both move to the Chairman's desk, come to attention, and salute as was proper. The Chairman stood after a moment and returned the gesture. "Grab a seat, I gather from your pre-brief report this will take a while."

"Indeed, sir," Creuset says as he takes a seat, followed quickly but distinctly afterwards by Yzak.

"Please begin," Chairman Zala orders.

"As per my submitted report, we approached the Mendel colony where intel garnered from informants suggested the Archangel and renegade machine Freedom had taken refuge. While in the vicinity of Mendel, on or about 12 July of this year we were witness to a pitched battle involving the _Archangel_, a second ship of the same class, and two unknown Warships each as large or larger than the _Archangel_ and armed far more heavily than said Warship. The two unknown Warships, in concert with smaller units we believe to be Mobile Armors of an indeterminate type, proceeded to lay waste to the second ship of the _Archangel_ Class, and do so in less than five minutes of gun action. At that time I ordered the three Warships in my flotilla to hold position off the outside dock entrance to Mendel while Yzak and I entered Mendel to investigate the possibility of being able to sortie from the planet-side dock against the _Archangel_ and Freedom. Inside Mendel, we encountered an unknown Mobile Suit and were able to take it down but not without having significant damage taken to my GuAIZ unit. Reference record 3-Alpha for the battle with the unknown Mobile Suit and our subsequent inspection, Chairman."

"Already have," Chairman Zala replies. "It is clearly similar to the captured machines from the Earth Alliance, but our analysts think this machine is a completely different line from ours or the Earth Alliance mass-production units. Please continue," he orders.

"At the time that we landed to inspect the Mobile Suit and the area, we came under fire and were subject to an attempted boarding action by unknown armored infantry units that appear resistant to fire from Mobile Suit weapons, as evidenced by records 3-Bravo-1 and 3-Bravo-2 where the unknown Infantry units took repeated hits from 60mm CIWS fire and continued moving with only token damage visible. Additionally, when latched onto a Mobile Suit these units are capable of causing severe, if not crippling damage in a matter of seconds, lending the possibility that whoever these foes are they are extremely well trained in anti-MS combat, above and beyond being equipped for such."

"Threat assessment?" Chairman Zala asks.

"Severe," Creuset replies. Yzak simply nods in confirmation. "Their maximum effective range is unknown, nor if they have extended capabilities for long-range combat, but within one hundred meters at the least these units can be a severe threat to the GuAIZ, within twenty-five meters they are capable of crippling a Mobile Suit even such as the Duel with Assault Shroud if left unchecked or not retreated from."

"Very well, continue," Zala orders.

"After jumping clear of the armored infantry, we were engaged by the Buster and Strike Gundams. As my machine was severely damaged, I ordered Yzak to engage them alone in a fighting withdrawal, which he executed in record 3-Charlie-2 and subsequently struck down the Strike Gundam. Events that unfolded after that are not included in the record, as the Duel's recording system suffered damage after shooting down the Strike and all further records are unusable. Yzak has filed a report on what transgressed, though he can better explain what happened afterwards himself."

"Pilot Joule, please deliver your report," Chairman Zala orders.

"Sir, after knocking down the Strike I engaged the Buster both in close and ranged combat. In so doing I was informed that the Buster was still under the control of former pilot Dearka Elsman, it had not been captured as I initially thought. The Buster landed at Mendel and I joined it, determined to interrogate Dearka on why he had apparently defected to the Earth Alliance. I did not receive a meaningful answer on it prior to being accosted to the Marines that had attacked my Mobile Suit before. They approached, asked Dearka if he required assistance, and left when told no. I requested but did not receive an explanation as to what the Marines were—or who they were, and without further harassment I departed the colony from the outside dock gate."

"I will resume from he—," Creuset declares, but is interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Chairman, I have Councilwoman Ezalia Joule here to speak to you," the guard declares.

"Send her in, she needs to hear this," Zala declares.

"Sorry I am late, sir, I was held up by Eileen Canaver." Patrick grumbled but said nothing substantive as she took the seat waiting for her.

"Please continue, Commander Creuset," Patrick replies.

"After retreating from the colony, I moved to return to the Vesalius and make preparations to leave but was intercepted by an exceedingly large Mobile Armor unit that was completely resistant to beam weapons and at least heavily-enough armored that it took several railgun slugs and repeated strikes from the CIWS guns on the ships. This Mobile Armor was able to completely disable my GuAIZ unit, struck down at least a half-dozen more GuAIZ, and caused significant damage in a single volley to the _Heusinger_, though that one Mobile Armor was not the responsible party for bringing down the _Vesalius_ and the _Heusinger_. Records 3-Delta-1, 3-Delta-2, and 3-Delta-3 all show the believed enemy command ship, assuming that the Mobile Armor in question is not part of some larger, hitherto unknown fleet."

Patrick Zala cues up record 3-Delta-1, which included the first glimpse of the enemy Warship, which was at a ludicrously short range. Easily, they could read the hull number and name off the ship (_Absinthe_), as well as get a good look at the unit symbol of three equilateral triangles, one stacked on the apexes of two others. The symbolism of such a device did not register to the four viewers, though everyone in the room knew that Absinthe was an alcoholic beverage that also had hallucinogenic properties, making the art on the side of the ship about the green fairy rather appropriate in context, including the lewdness of her cleavage being replaced by two obvious gun barrels of some kind.

"As the video shows, this Warship was able to lay waste to the _Heusinger_, _Vesalius_, and with less than a percentage of its full arsenal cause significant damage to the _Helderton_. It is my professional opinion as a team commander that this battle was not winnable by circumstance, though at the time we did not know that the enemy, who refused to identify themselves, had such overwhelming power and clear fearlessness in the face of a numerically superior foe."

"Thank you for the report, Commander. One point of clarification: you do not believe this was a matter of three more ships in addition to the three renegade ships _Kusanagi_, _Archangel_, and _Eternal_, correct?"

"No, sir, I do not. I believe strongly that the _Absinthe_ and that Mobile Armor were either vanguard or rearguard to something far more dangerous than just the sum of those two units, or even those in addition to the two ships that mauled the _Dominion_. More than seventy percent of the debris field in and around Mendel Airspace was not visible to us even by way of long-range scans and infrared sweeps. It is possible that something else may have been hiding in the area we could not see, Chairman."

_That would be seriously bad_, Yzak grumps to himself. If a few of these Marines, three warships and a Mobile Armor were nasty enough, Yzak had no desire to know what else they might have in store for anyone who went looking.

"Recommended course of action?" this was an open question, and he expected answers from all three.

"Use long-range recon patrols to thoroughly inspect the debris fields in the L4 area for more units. It might be possible that we could force them to play their hand early, when they are not ready, putting them in a compromised position," Ezalia declares. "At the least, we may get some intelligence on their true strength and disposition."

"Creuset?" Zala asks.

"I advise a fleet of the most capable Warships we have use standoff fire against the debris field and saturate the area with beam fire, clearing out the area by way of denying them cover. This will force them to play their hand, likely in a violent fashion, providing us the upper hand in a running engagement."

"Pilot Joule?" Zala orders.

"Sir, I have to advise a non-action. We do not have enough information on them to confirm that either course already presented would not be a waste of personnel and equipment. For all we know they may want nothing to do with us whatsoever, and were simply responding to a hostile presence in the area." Yzak did not mention that ZAFT had been the first to fire on anyone in the engagement, but his not mentioning it was his belief that ZAFT was in the right, regardless of what else was factored into the equation.

"Thank you. I have some work to do pertaining to this; the Council will have to be notified of the circumstances surrounding the loss of two of our capital ships, though such actions might be usable to our advantage in the long run if handled properly. Ezalia, please remain, Creuset, what remains of your team is on standby for now here at the PLANTs. The Earth Alliance is stepping up their ground offensive operations against our terrestrial bases, they may not be overlong in coming to us."

"Understood, sir. By your leave?"

"Dismissed," both Creuset and Yzak stand, come to attention, and salute in the ZAFT fashion. Within a minute they were out of the room.

"That was a prudent but overly cautious suggestion, Yzak," Creuset declares. "If you do not take the initiative against those who conceal themselves, they will strike when the opportunity is right for them to strike. Remember, if we had not preempted the Earth Alliance at Heliopolis, things would be far different now...and likely none of us would have survived the fallout of such consequences."

"Understood, Commander, but I can't shake the feeling that there really is more to these enemies...a lot more."

"There is a lot more to them, but we will not know how much until after they spring their own plans, unless we can force their hand on our terms." If Creuset could sound any colder, how he was to sound so was lost on Yzak.

-x-x-x-

(27 July CE 71, 1300 hours)

(Warship _Mjolnr_)

The Star Admiral had done what he was going to promise himself to do days ago. He finally made the leap of conscience necessary to activate the first series of Androids.

All that remained was actually doing it.

"Ready to do this, Wayne?" Gerald asks candidly from the doorway to his quarters. Hovering behind him was Aina, the effective progenitor of the Androids about to be activated.

"Aff, before I put this off another few days, we need to get moving on it," Wayne orders. Within moments he was outside his quarters as the final step in ensuring he actually did it.

"Still worried about it being morally ambiguous," Gerald clarifies to Aina. "It's a hard thing to tell someone they now exist, but are at serious risk of being shot until further notice."

"Oh," the Doc replies immediately.

" 'Until further notice' is a long way off," Wayne replies.

"Do not be fooled," Gerald replies for calming; "Silence will happen even during the storms to come."

"Oh," Aina replies again.

"And we shall generate that silence," Wayne replies in stoic Magi fashion. The _how_ of the comment was fairly obvious: superior firepower plus judicious precision application plus moral high-ground really does equal peace in very real terms. All the more so when the enemy is not expecting it in the least.

The journey to the nanotech machine shop 6-Bravo was a short one, though mostly vertical in that they had to drop down in the ship seven decks to get to it. Magi Warships did contain turbolifts and more particularly freight elevators, but these were always busy during operating periods and unusable during close combat; the three had descended into the depths of the _Mjolnr_'s hulk by way of ladders, which were less favored but readily available.

Gerald, Aina, and Wayne entered the shop during a material reduction operation that someone was cutting a slab of Mobile Doll internal structure into smaller chunks with a plasma torch. Seemingly commanded by fate to prove Wayne's hypothesis about the fleet correct, rather than doing something normal like moving to and tapping the salvage chopper on the shoulder, an object was thrown in her general direction, causing her to stop torching and look at the object as it rolled across the floor, then trace back to the throwing person. "Yo, 'Liz, The boss is here!"

"Oh, hello Star Admiral," she says while turning the plasma torch off. "Here for the Android project?"

"Yeah, I have had my mental argument on the subject, time to start walking it." The salvage technician racks the torch and her face guard to join the other three Nanotech Machinists for the activation.

"Ai, final check, good to go?" Wayne asks.

"Aff, Star Admiral," the Ship's AI entity replies. "As Aina can attest, the mods are all working flawlessly and I have thoroughly checked through the three cores involved. Henceforth I recommend that a mandatory seven-day trial period be executed for preparation and testing."

"Noted, include it in the standard process from now on," Wayne orders. "Gerald, final chance for objections," he adds after a moment.

"I have none," Gerald replies. "One of my best teammates before I joined this misfit fleet was a Construct AI." He did not say how long ago that was, nor did he say what position said Construct AI had relative to him, but Wayne took the presented fact at face value.

"Aina?"

"Certainly not, sir," Aina replies immediately.

"Techs, I want to hear 'em if you have any, so speak up and speak loud if needed," Wayne orders of the five-man team in the Machine Shop...that was four ladies easily capable of meeting the guidelines for 'Amazoness' and one guy that was scrawny enough to almost appear as a pilot officer.

"None, sir;" "Nope;" "We built 'em, we wanna see 'em go forth;" "Do it, sir, just do it;" and from the one guy, after everyone looks at him solely: "What? You think I'm gonna dissent after helping set 'em up? You're all out of your fracking mind!"

"That settles that," Wayne replies. "Ai, please activate the first series production models."

"Initiating startup process and unlocking the Core AI groups now. Twenty seconds."

It did take the full twenty seconds before the first of the three new androids physically appeared to wake up. All three of the new androids were sitting on a bench against the wall presumably where they had been constructed, which also is where several new objects had been built and were awaiting collection by the appropriate mechanics or technicians to use those parts. Immediately, the female android (3) that had stirred looked around to assess where she was, then: "Amazing, I really was activated," she declares.

"I was beginning to wonder," the first of the two male androids declares.

"Honestly, I wish it could be under better circumstances that you were activated, as well," Wayne declares, immediately drawing their attention to him. "Still..." his sentence trails off.

"What the Star Admiral is trying to say is things are about to go to hell and we need help fixing them," Aina finishes up for him, understanding why he faltered.

"Thanks, Doc," Wayne replies.

"We understand the conflict as the ship knows it, Star Admiral Centara," the third of the androids, also male, replies. "Where do you need the assistance the most, sir?" he asks as he stands up, followed shortly by the other two.

That reaction had taken the Star Admiral aback: "That quick?" his question was referencing the fact that they were just that willing to join the effort, no question asked.

The lady android picked up the response: "Sir, an everyone dies scenario includes us as well. We could get by, maybe even flourish if the rest of the crew was lost, but...hollow victory that is," she replies.

"Nobody can win or everyone loses," the center guy declares. "I'm in, but would we be allowed to resign afterwards?"

"No questions asked, you want out, you are out," Wayne replies. "It'll be after an armistice is in place, but you will be released without prejudice. I expect we shall be here for a few years at the minimum."

The center guy nods a few times thoughtfully. "I am ready for orders, sir," he replies.

"We all are," the lady android adds after a moment. "If the proto unit is in the fray, so shall we be."

"Hey, leave me out of this," Aina replies. "I'm just medical staff, not combat personnel where the bodies are needed the most," she adds quickly.

Wayne sighs. "I really wish it wasn't this directly nasty," he declares. "All right, if you three want in, I accept. Techs?" The next part of the procedure as had been laid out was in their hands, since it had been they who had done the final assembly approval and monitored the process the final step was in their hands.

"A-P-0-0-1," and the salvage cutter steps forward.

"Ma'am," the center guy steps forward to meet her.

"Your codex," and she offers the typical chrome codex box that had two codex necklaces in it (4). "Your name is Dail. Welcome to the ship from hell," she says.

"Thank you, ma'am," he replies kindly.

"A-P-0-0-2," and the lady android steps forward to be met by one of the other ladies in the room. "You are now Lita. You don't object, do you?"

"No, no, not at all, thank you," she replies graciously.

"And the last, A-P-0-0-3, Trevor is your name now," the other salvage cutter declares as they meet halfway.

"Welcome to the crew, all three of you," Wayne notes. "Hopefully we shall all live long enough to celebrate you resigning from the crew, if that is the path you want to take. Now, onto the real grind, I'll accept whatever open position you wish to take in the ship short of a command slot, but honestly we need pilots and we need them desperately. That is where I request you go, but the choice is up to you," he concludes.

The three looked among themselves, and Wayne had to wonder what kind of communication capabilities they really had that went above and beyond the norm. "We will become pilots, sir," the lady among the three replies.

Wayne nods thoughtfully, still rather ill at ease that he had to ask this of someone just technically brought into the here-and-now of Existence. "Very well, the Century Commander will see to your placement and preparation. You answer to him, he answers to me. Any questions?"

"Neg, sir," all three reply.

"Gerald, you're it," Wayne declares. "Good luck, all of you," Wayne declares before coming to attention and giving a Star League traditional bow, a formality reserved for only the utmost of procedures. When he came back up he realized that everyone had done the same, including the Androids. He was the first out, but not the last; Aina followed closely and back towards her duty station, to which he was also headed in the same direction.

"That was rough on you, I can sense it," she declares after they were out of earshot of the machine shop.

"They may not make it back," Wayne replies. "Even if the four of you are artificial intelligence entities, you do have a right to your lives as per Magi regs, and as per common decency. It really is a helluva thing to have to consign someone to the battlefield, even when the cause is necessary, just, and honorable, especially when you know they may not come back."

"The fight should not be something we regret, but the necessity of the battle is to be regretted?"

"Not even that in some cases," Wayne replies as they enter the medical ward down the hall from the NT Machine shop they were just in; it was Aina's assigned medical ward, though she also did some traveling around the ship as needed. "You don't regret the battle, on the face of it war is not something to regret except when the cause is so blatantly pathetic as to be nonexistent. The fact that people are killed in such actions is what is to be regretted."

"Ship's Jester reporting, beware that if someone has to explain to you what a rubber is for, there may not be hope for you. That is all." Which made a wonderful triple barbed comment on the Jester's part, since condoms were becoming rare on the ship at this rate as well as some scuttlebutt he had heard from the Flight Controllers about said subject, and the proclivity of some Magi philosophies to not recommend protection.

"If you'll forgive my being flip, sir, I don't quite understand the dichotomy you're placing on it," Aina replies.

"War is inevitable, Aina. So long as there is matter in Existence there will be a conflict between matter and its next-door neighbor. The same principle applies all up and down the chain of 'organization' in Existence: planets will strain against their bounds of gravity, the winds shall whip the surfaces of those planets, the insects shall strive to avoid the bird trying to eat it, the lion shall face down the pack of hyenas and may win or lose, people will bludgeon, bash, shoot, explode and vaporize their neighbors for insert reason here. So long as something exists, conflict is inevitable. War is what we dare to call the eternal conflict of Existence when we apply high tech and the occasional rule to the act of the conflict."

"If the war is inevitable, then, why the regret? It would be inescapable."

"Not for the war, except when the cause is unnecessary, but always for those whose lives were cut short," Wayne says. "I have much to see to, thank you Aina. Try and keep the three new ones straight, please," Wayne requests before he was off.

"I still don't think I get it, but..." Aina mutters to the wall.

-x-x-x-

(30 July CE71, 0730 hours UTC)

"I am the Oathmaster," Gerald Lightbringer begins. "As is tradition of the Magi, and the Clans that we absorbed, those to become the next generation of warriors shall do so only by way of victory in Trial of Position. Pilot candidates Dail, Trevor, Lita, this is your challenging grounds. As you have already shown yourselves so far beyond Solhama that to face them would present no challenge, if we could scratch up enough of them to begin with. Therefore, you will face blooded and active warriors, specifically Club Element, units 0, 4, 6, and 10 from said Element. You will engage and destroy all four enemy marks to achieve a total victory, or three and damage the fourth for an acceptable partial victory. Failure to destroy three enemy units will constitute a failure condition. Is this understood?"

"Aff, Century Commander," Lita replies immediately.

"Club Element forces, your victory condition is disabling or destroying all three enemy units while minimizing friendly casualties. Your enemy has been thoroughly trained and posts Veteran status at the minimum in sims, which means this is not going to be a simple battle for you. Despite this being a Trial, I expect your 'Alpha' game on this one, clear?"

"Aff, sir," Club 0 replies immediately. Estell Greeg, a blooded Dendrobium pilot, had seen more than a few of these kinds of Trials and know how to do it right. "If they pass muster, Century Commander, to whose unit do they go?"

"Oh, I expect there will be a bidding war for these three pilots after the shooting is done. Hell, it may even start before the Trial is concluded."

"This...is probably not going to end well," Club 6 complains.

"The Oathmaster called upon us for a reason, Six. Get your shit in gear or duck out and call a replacement, whichever it takes," Club 0 orders.

"Aff, command, Club 6 reporting ready op," she immediately replies.

"Club 4, report ready op at this time," said pilot declares.

"Club 10, ready op."

"Club Element in deploy reporting ready op, Oathmaster."

"Green 1, ready op," Dail says immediately thereafter.

"Green 2, active and ready," Trevor adds in series.

"Green 0 reporting Green element ready op," Lita declares.

"You are released. Begin the Trial," Gerald orders. His Gundam floated idly to the side, two similar Gundams nearby watching the battle as he was. They were UC-era special-purpose machines, constantly upgraded and refitted by the Magi for their original ugly and brutal purpose, easily putting them nearly on par with the Freedom and Justice Gundams of local vintage in some respects, and well advanced of them in others.

"Think we'll get a good show, sir?" 'Kingfisher' asks Gerald.

"Oh, you shall get a good show, comrade," Gerald replies. "Calling them 'Green Element' may just be an insult in and of itself, they are that good."

"And we had them laying about the ship with no knowledge of their capabilities?" 'Cobalt' asks the Century Commander after a few moments of silence.

"You could say that and not be incorrect," Gerald replies immediately. "It begins," he declares.

The shooting had begun with standoff missile fire, conducted with the Dendrobium's typical Large Anti-shipping missiles that came three missiles to a silo. All was simulated, of course, the _Mjolnr_ did not have the ammo to waste nor the manpower to repair banged up units. Both sides had launched six salvos, eightteen missiles total, it was in how they intercepted the missiles that the difference was made.

"Not bad at all," 'Cobalt' (her code name) declares. Club Element had intercepted nine of the missiles with beam rifle and vulcan fire, dodged two, and received seven hits; nothing spectacular there, given that Club was rated as Veteran. Green Element, on the other hand, intercepted fifteen of the missiles with precision beam rifle fire, dodged one, and took two hits. It helped that the pilots of Green Element were carrying two beam rifles in dual-wield configuration apiece, as opposed to the beam rifle and shield combination of the Club Element.

"It gets better. Now the beam weapons do the talking," Gerald says. "This is where Green will change the score for certain."

Gerald was not lying to his erstwhile teammates (who formed their own element separate from the Angel Team). Related by way of similar profession that they did not discuss, Gerald held a deep-seated respect for their chosen duty, if a distaste for the amount of collateral damage it caused. Even still, the shock from 'Kingfisher' as the three from Green Team commenced their attack on Club in a methodical fashion began with violating and successively destroying the I-Field Generator of Club 0, first by using three precision Mega Particle Cannon shots from their Dendrobium armors to knock down the enemy I-Field, then used a barrage of beam rifle fire aimed specifically at the I-Field generator. Three shots of their eight shot beam rifle barrage contacted the armor, two armor hits and one to the I-field generator. Just like that, Club 0, the element lead for Club Element, was defenseless except for the heavy armor on his machine.

In the process of stripping the defense from Club 0, Green Element had split up in three directions, allowing Club to pass between two armors above and one below. The enemy return fire was itself impressive, scoring several hits both beam and ballistic against Green 1 and Green 2, but their efforts were not immediately enough to bring down a shield or cause major damage. With the passing, Green Element turned in to pursue with a series of maneuvers that were close to the threshold of what a normal pilot could take in maneuvering forces, as Club Element changed heading but continued to slide away from their pursuers, essentially flying backwards while firing more anti-shipping missiles at Green.

"Classic Dendrobium swarm," 'Kingfisher' notes as Green closed up hard and fast on Club, then broke off while leaving a series of Micromissile canisters in their wake, in the process dodging Mega Particle Cannon fire from two of the enemy and taking two hits in the process. The missiles were not designed to take down larger craft on their own, but as harassing fire they were practically unmatched as both minor damage instruments and as a supreme distraction. While Club was busy absorbing missiles and attempting to shoot some of the six canisters' worth of missiles down, Club 0 was singled out for significant beam weapon fire from Green 0 and Green 2, taking two hits of Mega Particle Cannon and several beam rifle strikes. The major damage occurred to the lesser-armored flank of the Dendrobium as they passed through Club Element while splitting up, in so doing destroying the engine and fuel bunkerage for the armor; Club 0 blew out radially in a plasma venting wave from the cooked reactor in simulation, the pilot thoroughly chastised of his failure by his monitors.

Green did not go unscathed for their efforts, though, as they passed through Green 2 received more than a few missiles in the very weak rear armor and numerous hits from Club's one Neue Ziel Upgrade's 105mm Autocannons. Though energy-resistant (in their I-fields and armor composite), the ballistic weapons still caused notable damage to the armor; the missile hits in the rear also included one that destroyed an engine nacelle, significant;y reducing Green 2's thrust. Green 1 tried clearing through toward the left in an attempted beam saber drive-by that failed to contact Club 6 and exposed her to return fire from Club 4 and two pods of Micromissiles of his own.

"Gods be damned, these greenhorns are good!" Club 4 declares as his prey shakes part of the missiles off, taking the hits from the rest primarily in sides.

"They're even high-G rated!" Club Six half-shouts as she latches down the beam rifle and shield to the frame of the Orchis and reaches out with her gimble arms to pick up two folding bazookas from her stores. Unfolded and deployed, she goosed her engines to clear out of the way of another possible missile or beam attack and moved low, rotating to fire her bazookas up at them.

"Spread out! Spread out from Green 2, I think that tango has Chain Mines!" Club 10 hastily orders. Where the Beam Cannons were nasty customer in anti-MA warfare, Chain Mines were inherently more deadly when used right due to their self-forging penetrators that could punch several meters into the innards of even the heaviest-armored Mobile Armor.

"Close, not quite," 'Cobalt' says mirthlessly. In the process of spreading out, Club 6 became the subject of overt beam cannon fire, a few direct hits, two misses, and one partial. "They know how to shoot very well," she declares a moment later.

"They are a little green tactically, though," 'Kingfisher' declared. "Should have mauled two of them by now, not just one."

"Wait for it," Gerald cautions the two observers. More missiles traded directions, again Green Element went out of their way to intercept the bulk of the ordinance coming their way, though this time Club took a page out of Green's book and used the missiles as a concerted distraction to hammer on them with beam and ballistic weapons. Their ploy came with limited success, Gerald's status screen for Green 1 showed a significant depletion of the I-Field, something that took time to recharge.

"Now," 'Cobalt' declares, realizing what Gerald was referring to. As Gerald was the Oathmaster, he had the option to listen in on their radio chatter, something denied to observers as an observer could theoretically be a mole for the OpFor, thus he could hear the logic that Green was operating under. Green 1 and 2 were the bait for Club, allowing Green 0 to get within the magical '5 mark' range bracket to deploy Chain Mines. Three of the Chains shot out, two aimed at the Neue Ziel Upgrade, one aimed at Club 6. It did not stop the Neue Ziel Upgrade and the other two Armors from tearing apart Green 1 by way of their next beam barrage, but they were to distracted to realize what was happening until it was too late for the Neue Ziel. The Dendrobium got away with several armor-penetrating hits as well as significant damage to its engines, but was itself not destroyed. "Shit! That's the same as your winglady, Gerald, what the hell have you been teaching these rookies?"

"C'mon, finish 'em off, Green 2," 'Kingfisher' entreats. "Prove you are ruthless enough to capitalize right now, and your position is pretty much guaranteed," he says; as a team, if Green Element could prove themselves apt enough to capitalize on each other's successes, not one Element in the _Mjolnr_ would not want them.

"You'll get it," Gerald declares. Green 2 indeed moved in for the kill from an oblique angle, using prior inertia headed in one direction plus judicious thrust in another to essentially arc in on the flank of the battered Club 6. Without much in the way of maneuver options, the pilot could only wait for her fate or eject the Stamen, to which she simply waited and watched as the paired simulated Beam Sabers chopped her Mobile Armor apart laterally into three rough sections, missing the primary reactor but not the engines and behind the weapons containers but also through the midsection of the Stamen contained inside.

"Trial Command, this is Club 4, requesting the right to forfeit the engagement. I am outclassed grossly, there is no way in hell I can handle two Dendrobium that fight like these three have done so." To point of fact, two Mega Particle beams struck his armor within a second of each other, knocking out a significant portion of his I-Field's reserve energy.

"Club 4, Trial Command acknowledges your surrender without prejudice. Green Element, Trial Command, stand down from simulated combat procedure, this engagement is completed. With three kills and one surrender against one friendly loss, you have achieved a complete victory as per the spirit of the Trial."

"Aff, sir, Green Element is clear weps," Green 0 reports."

"How's the bidding war coming along, boss-man?" 'Cobalt' asks after a few moments of silence.

"Oh, looks like we have two fist fights, a game of tiddlywinks, and five minor blackjack tourneys going right now to pare down the field of competition."

"Bets?" 'Kingfisher' asks.

"With a game of tiddlywinks in the fray, no chance in hell," Angel Zero (Gerald Lightbringer) replies. "All units RTB, we are done here. Allow me to be the first to say welcome to the unit, Green Element."

-x-

(Location: _Mjolnr_ flight deck, hangar area 13-Sierra)

By the time all craft had been docked, the last of them being Green Element, the Bidding War had been sorted out and the results acknowledged by the Star Admiral. Two would be assigned to Club Element, replacements for (formerly) Warhawk 2 and Warhawk 7, casualties of the Mobile Doll assault on the _Mjolnr_ before they had even come to the Cosmic Era area. Green 2 would be passed on to Spade Element, where he would round out the unit's numbers into what was technically a star.

"All right, listen up. You may have won the bidding wars for these three pilots, but there's one thing I want to make clear before I transfer them in."

"Sir," Club 0 and Spade 0 reply immediately. Their respective pilots were arrayed behind in assembly formation, not that there were many waiting in the end. The Mobile Armor elements were a thin number right now, having suffered hellish losses at the hands of the Mobile Dolls.

"You have heard the scuttlebutt about an android on the ship, right?"

"Aff, sir," Spade 0 replies. "She's the doc down in the hell hole, spends all day patching up the brainless Marines who keep getting into shit down there."

"For an AI, she has a helluva lot of patience," Club Six appends.

"That MedTech was an Android? Holy shit, I never knew, even after she patched me up after the last bar brawl in the Club 300," Spade 4 declares.

"Whoa, no shit?" Spade 2 asks. "Helluva nice AI, then, I couldn't tell she wasn't a normal crazy surgeon on this fucked-up patrol boat."

"Takes all kinds, I guess, including in the AI department," Club 4 notes.

"Simmer down," Club 0 orders. A few murmurs came back but that was it.

"What does that Doc have to do with this, sir?" Spade 0 asks.

"The Doc in question was a prototype, one of a limited series put out as an eval program for more than a few interesting features in an Android. We may never know the program's overall success rate, if we don't get out of here alive or can't go home. Regardless, the Star Admiral considers the program effectively complete and ready for deploy."

"Oh, let me guess," and Spade 0 waves her finger at the three inductees standing at attention behind Gerald.

"There may be hope for you yet, Star Captain Tina," Gerald declares. There was a very short-lived ripple of conversation from the assembled personnel and the Mechanics that were also listening in, but that was it. "I won't bother to tell you to follow orders. We don't have time for petty rivalry shit, I can sense the blatant end is coming and it will not be pretty. If there is resistance to you serving alongside Construct-AI Androids, I want to know right now so I can have them assigned to a team that will accept them. Make the call and make it fast."

Spade 0 looked back to her Star for their opinions. There was a quick chat, then, "We're game if they're game," and Spade 1's indication was the Androids.

"After getting our asses handed to us that fast, we'd build a monument to the program's creator if we could spare the resources," Club 0 declares. "We could probably use a couple dozen more of 'em as well," which garnered a surprised reaction from both the mechanics and the Androids alike.

"Only problem with that is, we don't have the resource machining time," Gerald says. "And, as is requirement of the program, free will is in effect, so after the shooting is done anyone who wants out can take an out. I expect we will be here for at least a decade, but that is my opinion and is not shared by the rest of the command staff, and in following there will be a lot of people who do not want to remain mil for that long, Androids included. I guess that means you are in as well?"

"Aff, sir," Club 0 replies immediately.

"Very well. Dail, Lita, you are hereby assigned to Club Element. Your unit CO will assign your units and designations. Trevor, you are in Spade Element. Since both of your elements are on stand-down for the next 72 hours, I suggest you get some sim time in, make sure you know how to coordinate properly. One thing, especially for you, Star Captain Tina," Gerald prompts as Trevor was trading handshakes with his new team.

"Sir?"

"The boss says they are part of the team and on the level at that. They are not a step up from Mobile Dolls and a step below you. Keep that in mind."

"Aff, sir," Tina replies immediately. She was not thinking such a thing, which meant that he was playing the Drill Sergeant and using her as an example for the rest of the unit. She could accept that, in the end, especially the way Trevor acted as if he really was human...

-x-x-x-

(10 August CE71, 1400 hours UTC)

Something about being inside the corridors of the _Mjolnr_ always gave Kira the chills. Even more so when he was nearby the Marines; they always seemed to be watching, waiting, as if it would be he that does something nasty to someone somewhere and would warrant a reprisal.

"C'mon, Kira," Athrun grumps. "It's a free lunch, I'm not complaining, you shouldn't be," he declares.

"Right," Kira replies as they continue down the main corridor to where the lunch was being held.

The other thing that was creeping Kira out was where they were headed. The Sniper Bar and Grill had a reputation; Chandra had been in there grabbing a quick lunch after winning some hard cash from the casino a week past, and had been witness to a bar fight that thankfully did not engulf the whole bar, but did embroil a significant amount of it. Of course it did not take long for the story to get through the ranks of the _Archangel_, and Kira had heard Murrue muttering something to the effect of the _Mjolnr_'s crew was so unruly it was a freaking wonder their military didn't collapse of its own faults. Coming from Murrue, Kira took that as strong condemnation.

Finding the said establishment was not a difficult task; quite belying the name of the place, a sniper rifle had been inset and hard-mounted into a pair of columns that flanked the door to the bar. The door's sign said enough to set the tone: 'Sniper Bar And Grill: all you need is one shot', which after a little exposure to one of the Marine Snipers made perfect sense as well as holding a double meaning. With a moment's hesitation he pushed into the door to enter...

...an almost empty establishment. Kira offhand could count only a dozen of the Magi gray uniforms as well as Calamira's distinctive dark blue uniform. A full galley staff was in the central cook's pit, each running no less than two grill operations at the same time to keep up with demand. Most of the people in the bar-restaurant were Orb refugees, Earth Alliance expatriates or ZAFT renegades. "Did they kick out the regulars?" Athrun asks, confirming what Kira thought was some visual illusion of some kind (he wasn't putting that skill past the Magi at all, given their other 'talents'). For a bar that could hold up to 500 persons at once (and routinely did), the crews of the three ships held less than half occupancy total to the room.

"I guess so, most of them," Kira replies, seeing one of the pilots for the _Dominion_'s Gundams at the table with the three Orb pilots that were the prototype M1 Astray test pilots. Kira could remember one of their names, Juri Wu Nien, but the rest of them he could not remember offhand.

"Makes you wonder what it would have been like without the war," Athrun says as they continue walking toward the command area where they were supposed to be sitting. Like Kira or Athrun had command of anything more than their Gundams, Athrun figured. "Or what it would have been like without them;" Kira figured Athrun was referring to the Magi and left it at that.

"You know, I just realized something," Kira thinks aloud. "The name 'Magi Empire' doesn't sound right, it's just doesn't feel long enough. Kinda like something is missing there."

"You could always ask if it's a contraction of something?" Athrun asks as they grab their seats with the command staff of the Three Ships Alliance and the _Mjolnr_, of which the latter had its own command staff larger than the three ships combined (but most were not present).

"Nah," Kira replies after a moment. A set of menus came down the table for the two pilots, though these were in straight English instead of the 'sniper lingo' of the last time Athrun had tried eating here. Needless to say, he preferred straight English on a dinner menu.

"What is this about, anyways?" Athrun asks.

"Don't have a clue," Kira replies before writing his meal plan down on a ticket and handing it to a passing mess tech. Athrun took a little longer to decide, but ion the end settled on the roast chicken. It was only after he wrote down the code for the meal he intended that he realized they had not gotten completely away from the 'lingo' of the establishment: the meal ticket had the heading of 'meal shootlist' on it, and the total section that would be filled out by the galley staff had 'rounds expended' and 'accuracy' fields on it.

"The Century Commander said he'll explain why as soon as everyone is here," Mu tells Kira and Athrun. "What did you guys choose?"

"Roast Chicken," Athrun replies immediately.

"Fillet Mignon, whatever that is," Kira says. He was not averse to trying things he did not like, and having won a few c-bills in the ship's casino / arcade he could afford to get something else if he didn't like it.

"Oh, that's just a cut of steak wrapped in bacon and grilled," Miriallia informs him. "They're real good, but expensive and hard to come by...or were hard to come by on Heliopolis." She could remember those few times she had one when her parents could get one from the grocery, and had immediately jumped on it herself.

"Oh," Kira replies. It definitely qualified as something new to him, chicken was fairly common at the Yamato household, steak products almost unheard of.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, if I may have your attention for a moment," and Gerald Lightbringer was standing conspicuously at the far edge of the command table (a circular one). Within five seconds, the whole area had quieted except for the low-spoken commands of the grill techs. "There has been some confusion as to why I called this dinner for the Three Ships. Essentially, it boils down to the fact that when the shooting is done, the Three Ships alone, to say nothing of the _Mjolnr_ and her escorts, will be renegade and will very likely be portrayed as chaotic aggressors attempting to stop either the Earth Alliance or ZAFT 'righteous crusade' against the other side. Given that portrayal, which is inevitable in this scenario if for no other reason than just as a parting shot from the defeated, it will get real lonely out there after the dust settles. We Magi have seen this time and time again both against ourselves and against others; one of the more iconic cases of such disparaging bias is the returning United States troops from Vietnam, how they were so grossly degraded by the civilians who had no real understanding why they were fighting. Come what shall in the weeks or months to come, let it at least be known that we Magi understand what your purpose is and support it, because you will find little to no support among the people who should know better. It will feel cold, almost an empty victory saving people from their own stupidity, yet it must be done for more than a few reasons."

"He's right," Mu replies. "I even got some guff on a couple times of shore leave on the moon," he says. He did not say what became of those few that had challenged him, of course...

"That pretty much covers the 'why' of why you are getting a meal seemingly at random. I shall distract you from your dinner no further; enjoy the meal and drinks, and with some luck on all of our parts we will survive to do it again after the shooting is done." A moment thereafter Gerald was seated and a few ripples of conversation started back up. It was close to a minute before anything serious was heard from anyone, mostly discussing what Gerald meant.

"Sad but true," Mu declares after a moment of silence. Less than a second later the mess tech with his plate showed up, and as Kira guessed he was eating chicken for a primary, with some kind of baked hash-brown product. "But good cooking," he admits after his first bite. "Now, are you going to ask your question, or not?"

"I dunno," Kira hedges. "Might piss them off if they're deliberately trying to hide some things," he concludes his thought.

"Fine, I will," Athrun replies almost sharply. "Star Admiral, I have a tough question if you're willing to answer," Athrun prompts as the Star Admiral receives his plate.

"Sure, ask," Wayne replies immediately.

"The name Magi, it is short for something else, right?"

"Not really, more of a crass euphemism," Wayne replies. " 'Magi' is a multi-facet joke or honorific, usually boiling down to 'wise men' or 'wise asses' depending on who you ask among the other five Empires from where we come. We never called ourselves that until it came into common use among some of our old foes, then it stuck and never let go. Some would say that the term Magi is a derivation of the Empire's real name, but it never started that way."

"Wait, you have a different name?" Murrue asks.

"Oh yes," Wayne replies. "The original name of the Empire is typically only used formally, the name Magi has become the de facto shorthand name thereof." Wayne sighed. "Before I go on, any of you actually heard it yet?"

"I did," Erica Simmons, the MS Engineer from the _Kusanagi_, declares. "I just don't understand why someone with such high grasp and utilization of technology would follow an antiquated belief in old tales of wizards and magic and such," she says almost dismissively.

"Pay up, Gerald," Calamira orders.

"You pays your money, yous takes your chance," Gerald grumbles in quote as he shells out over 200 c-bills to the diminutive Strategic Officer. Without much in the way of reaction she folded it up and stuffed it in the uniform pocket over her left upper arm. "See if I bet against you ever again," he grumps.

"And in that case I have to say you are dwelling on only a quarter of Existence, Miss Simmons," Wayne replies, politely ignoring the cash trading hands on the subject in question. He had not been involved in the betting on this subject, so had no bone to pick or payoff to give. "Think back to the briefing I gave on determining your location in Existence by way of answering a series of yes-no questions. Then apply two questions in series: is wizardry used, is technology used? You get four outcomes: no-no, yes-no, no-yes, and yes-yes. In our case it is a helluva lot more complicated than that, and I must admit there is a complete, 100-percent absence of such personnel in this fleet, but you can rest assured that the name Multimage Star Empire is not bullshit."

Athrun, who had just taken his first bite of his chicken, promptly gagged on it.

-x-x-x-

(1 September CE 71, 0430 hours UTC)

"Oh, and, uh, let me guess, next you will say phone sex between Newtypes is pointless?" Kika asks her Operator as she ducks around a piece of space debris with a deft thruster adjustment.

"The Newtype factor in it changes the whole equation, girl, and we both know it," her operator replies back. The guy in question was about the same age as she, and not all that bad looking, but his personality reminded her of the sound of forcefully bent steel.

"Good, you _are_ thinking. Now, if I can get you past the thought that all sex has to be physical, you may be ready to transcend normal enlightenment," Kika says almost sincerely. It was good enough for snickers on Control Band 37, which was tied into a dozen aerofighters and a half-dozen Mobile Suits in addition to her Dendrobium unit.

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of it?" Her controller asks weakly, knowing he was losing the argument.

"Depends on how you define 'purpose', amigo," she replies. "If your aim is to build the next generation, yeah, it won't work. If you are looking to keep in touch with your partner and have a little fun while you're at it, then no, it works very well. Works even better the more powerful the Newtypes in question." And Kika had to admit that what she could sense of Gerald was indeed very powerful in that category, almost as if he was something more than a Newtype in addition to being one. He staunchly denied being anything more than a Mobile Armor pilot with 'connections' 'high up' in the Empire, but Kika could smell that at least a ration of bullshit was being shoveled in that sense.

"Cute, real cute," the Controller declares. Kika changed course again, this time to dodge the torso of a GINN Mobile Suit that had been delimbed and was now drifting in a very high orbit around Terra. "So, what's the word on the 'freak out' among the Three Ships?"

"Nothing major," Kika replies. "There's a few that were instantly paranoid, a couple that still are, but Erica Simmons went over the records and is convinced we are not lying. There are no Mages on our ship, so of course she wouldn't find anything."

"No brainer, that," the pilot of Spade Four replies, 'Spade' being the new designation of Eagle Aerofighter Binary (what was left of them). "If we had any Mages, we would be freaking home by now, not hanging around jerking off in the Cosmic Era waiting for the dumbest race war ever to end and hoping it doesn't kill us in the process. Or is that too logical for some of the locals?"

"My friend, you are preaching to the choir," Kika replies. "Just, keep the supposed superiority attitude out of it if you do tell some of them that, they actually have a lot of good pilots...and some aces."

"Roger that," Spade Four replies immediately.

"Angel One, Control, I have movement in your ZOC, unidentified Mobile Suits possible closing on the ship's flank. Two marks, unidentified. Move to and intercept, determine threat and request backup if necessary," Kika's controller orders in a command voice, signaling that the hours of bullshitting were over now that something real was happening. His choice of tactics were a derivation of the new gameplan written up by Gerald, given that any one of the Angel Team were literally a one-unit wrecking crew capable of shredding just about anything short of one of ZAFT's major space fortresses or an Earth Alliance equivalent. Combining the four Angel Team pilots into one action was now in the Mjolnr's playbook as 'overkill—use sparingly'.

"Roger that, I have track, moving to intercept now," Kika adjusts her facing and applies half thrust to get moving in their direction. "Control, Angel One, in route, show time to contact as 4 minutes at present acceleration."

"Angel One, confirm fuel and ord (5) status."

"Angel One confirms 78 percent fuel, full weps heavier on anti-ship detail but still capable to this task," she declares.

"Roger that, don't do anything I wouldn't do, Angel One," the Controller orders.

"That leaves a lot of open territory," Kika mutters with her thumb off the radio switch, so it never went any farther than her flight recorder. After a minute she dialed in the open frequencies for the locals, since they operated with different bands that were supposed to be picked up by every radio set than Magi or Star League sets. "Attention unidentified Mobile Suits, change your course immediately and declare intention or you will be considered hostile," Kika orders.

She could sense the happening before her systems picked it up, even though the beam struck her I-field and went no farther. A burst of high-caliber machine gun rounds walked across the front surface of her weapons containers but caused no notable damage.

"If that is the measure of your intentions, Mobile Suits, I think I can reply in kind," Kika declares as a second and third beam struck her I-field harmlessly. She triggered the weapons pods containers, then dispatched a pair of the large missile canisters that held three long-range missiles each. The missiles each carried EO gear, allowing her to watch a 'kamikaze cam' as the six missiles bored in on two targets, one of which being a definitive Astray variant, the other being a Ginn. The Astray took no hits, the Ginn lost its entire right arm and shoulder from a solid hit.

"What the—no way! I got shot down that quickly?" Kika could hear the Ginn's pilot half-shout in surprise by way of her Newtype senses. Two more beams struck her I-Field as she passed by where the two were practically creeping along toward the _Mjolnr_.

"This isn't a normal enemy, Elijah, get back to the ship right now," the Astray pilot orders and was heard in the same fashion by Kika. She passed outside hearing range too fast to hear the reply, but her sensors immediately picked up the Ginn headed for an otherwise unarmed ship. "Is this what they sent us out here to investigate and destroy? That is nothing like their file footage," the Astray pilot says as she closes in again.

"You will approach the _Absinthe_ only over my dead body, pilot," Kika declares coldly. Two shots of the Stamen's beam rifle were followed by a single micromissile canister, which in turn was followed by the Dendrobium itself charging in with one of the anti-ship beam sabers set outward at an angle to chop him if the missiles failed. Which they did, his shield deflected the beams, of the ten missiles that locked onto him only three contacted his shield, and finally belying his veterancy the pilot just barely dodged under the Beam Saber. She passed by and took the time to dodge around a few beams sent her way since she could sense the aimpoints as he fired, then bootlegged and rotated around the enemy transport ship, again not firing on it due to Magi ethos preventing firing on unarmed targets.

"This is distracting me from my contract," the Astray pilot grumps. "And how can something that big maneuver like that?" he asks as only one of the three shots he fired at it contacted the defensive field around it, the other two missed the whole assembly by meters.

Kika sensed something else approaching her, and much to her surprise found the Astray Red Frame from the Junk Guild between her and the similar-model blue unit. "Attention pilot from the _Mjolnr_, this is Lowe Gear, from the Junk Guild, come in," he requests on the frequency previously set aside for the Junk Guild to talk to the Fleet.

"Angel One to Red Frame, best you clear this area, pilot. The mercenary and I have a disagreement to settle," Kika declares as the Dendrobium comes to something approaching a dead stop relative to the Blue and Red Frames.

"Serpent Tail is not your enemies, Angel One, I'd say we need to stop shooting at each other?" Lowe asks.

"If the Mercenary has a contract to damage or destroy the _Absinthe_, then we are unequivocally opposed, Lowe. If his intention is else, he should have declared so before shooting at...oh, I get it now, you are the resupply scheduled for the Three Ships today, no wonder the Junk Guild is out here in the middle of nowhere."

"Is she...easily distracted?" the Mercenary asks.

"I don't think so," Lowe says. "She's one of the Angel Team, badass elites among a whole fleet of 'em," Lowe says with a hint of reverence. "And here come her three teammates," he says, having seen them in action in a training session the last time the _RE H.O.M.E._ was at the fleet, conducting resupply.

"Oh great," the Mercenary declares as the three other Mobile Armors come to a slow stop in flanking positions relative to where Angel One was parked. Two of the armors matched Angel One, one was so totally different as to look almost alien.

"A Mercenary, is it?" a guy declares on the same frequency.

"Say the word, boss-man, and we'll missile massacre the merc playing pirate," a wholly different lady declares on open frequencies.

"Neg, not necessary...yet, at least." A pause; "So tell me, Mercenary, what shall it be? The term of surrender, the long walk way the hell away from here, or the firing squad? I leave the decision up to you." Two beam shots at the Neue Ziel failed to do anything more than terminate at its I-field as well. "All four of our units are beam resistant, Merc, you will get nowhere with such tactics."

"If I walk, what will become of my ship?"

"You all shall leave the area. We do not take hostages, be it equipment or personnel."

Gai Murakamo knew one thing better than most Mercenaries: there were limits on what one man, even the best of them, could do when the odds were stacked against him. In this case, the odds were stacked against him to the point that one could walk the length of the odds and transit the distance from Earth to the Moon in that length. Not only did he have these four impossibly fast and incredibly powerful units to deal with, but from ZAFT's own file footage and analysis this _Absinthe_ was a kind of gunboat that ZAFT or the Earth Alliance could only dream about. Not even the vaunted _Archangel_ had the kind of firepower that the _Absinthe_ had demonstrated in its shootout with Creuset's team and fleet carriers. The whole thing was a colossal loser, and only now did Gai realize that even the Second G equipment for his Astray would not save his rear even if he had it with him.

"Very well, we will walk," Gai declares. The money ZAFT was putting up was impressive, but not worth the risk in the end.

"One moment," Gerald says. "Here, take this," and a short-burn missile was launched, a beacon-type missile. The engine burned out long before it got to the Blue Frame. "That is a tech readout of the _Flame Eater_-class Warships, of which the _Absinthe_ is one of them. I'll leave the matter of how you mutilate and present that data to the ZAFT intelligence weenies up to you. At the least, it will prevent you from totally defaulting on your contract, may even earn you repair costs on that custom Ginn your comrade uses."

"What's the catch?" Gai asks after catching the rocket as it came closest to his machine.

"We may be calling upon your services in due time, Mercenary. I shall leave the 'when' and 'how' up to the Fates at this time."

"Understood. Good luck," Gai declares before he turns and moves back to his ship.

"And you, Red Frame, you picked a very bad place to park it," Gerald berates the pilot. "If Kika had pressed the attack, you can rest assured the Astray's shield won't stand up to a concentrated missile barrage or anti-shipping chain mine."

"Somebody had to stop the only two 'right' military groups in the Earth Sphere from blowing the hell out of each other," Lowe declares.

"The kid does have a point," Kika declares. "You don't get much more 'right' than Mercenaries, and that includes our own ranks. I guess I owe the crazy one a drink when we get back to the fleet." (6)

-x-x-x-

(23 September CE 71, 2010 hours UTC)

"You really should be asleep, Strategic Officer," Commander Ward says. Murrue agreed, but she simply silently sat there, taking no vocal position on the matter.

"Things are heating up, Commander," Calamira replies. "This Operation Elvis that the Earth Alliance has laid on, under normal circumstances I would consider it a suicide run given their intention to cut through Boaz, but something is still not right here. The Earth Alliance leadership is smarter than this, despite the fantastic racism kick. Not even the Nazis were this dumb about the Russians, unless the Earth Alliance has something more up their sleeve than piss and vinegar."

"You are rambling, you are having problems standing straight, you have taken in enough caffeine to kill a Marine in the past hour alone, and I do not recall you having had anything to eat in the past ten hours. With all due respect, the only person you are fooling is yourself, Strategic Officer Weste," Commander Ward declares rather coldly. The look he got from the Strategic Officer was rather venomous, but short-lived.

"I know, I know, once the Earth Alliance throws in the towel I shall retire for a day or so," Calamira declares.

Murrue looked at the force composition table in the holoprojector again. The Earth Alliance had thrown effectively six fleets at Boaz as part of Operation Elvis, totaling six _Agamemnon_, 34 _Nelson_, and at least 61 _Drake_. The Mobile Suit count was assumed to be somewhere close to 200, which was no match for what the _Mjolnr_'s strategic analysis thought of Boaz. In fact, Murrue had heard that the Star Admiral's plan to take down Boaz if necessarily relied on ultra-long-range bombardment and intercepting the inevitable naval counterattack with his Monitors. No finesse, no special tactics, just hammering on them until the whole fort folds. It had been shocking to her at first, that a force who could 'smart' their way to victory in any battle would have to brute force one of two fortresses guarding the ZAFT homeland. It was not a pretty picture.

"Something is happening," Calamira mutters, her eyes closed tightly shut, focusing into the distance. "I...I feel panic, white-hot panic, and a lot of death. Something...bright...nukes! Nuclear weapons at Boaz!"

"Conn, sensors, I have electromagnetic pulses consistent with high-yield nuclear devices detonating in space or in a thin object, bearing 3-1-7 at zero Terra, estimate range equivalent to location ZAFT fortress Boaz!" the Flight Controller declares.

Calamira looked down to the deck, banging her head off the rails around the command platform and muttering something. "Are you all right?" Murrue asks as she reaches a hand out to the Strategic Officer...

...that never got there. "Don't," Calamira cautions. "Please don't, Captain," she requests. "I just felt ten thousand people die in the space of twenty seconds. I am not in a good mood right now," she declares.

Commander Ward picked up a growler phone and entered the 1MC code. "Star Admiral Centara to the bridge immediately! Repeat, Star Admiral Centara to the bridge immediately!"

It took a minute, during which Calamira visibly backed off her near-rage fit, but now showed no sign of fatigue. "What gives, Commander, Calamira?" he asks as he strides into the bridge while buttoning down his uniform shirt.

"Sir, given what our sensors and Calamira have picked up in the past couple minutes, it is now safe to assume that Boaz is a small, crispy cinder, and what crew was not initially killed in the attack will be dead enough soon enough from radiation overkill." That Commander Ward said it with a straight face was testament to the gravity of the situation.

"Great," Wayne moans sourly, meaning the exact opposite. "Calamira, what's their next target?"

"They're mopping up ZAFT leftovers right now, then it is Jachin Due and the PLANTs themselves," she declares coldly.

This elicited a gasp from Murrue. "It's Junius Seven all over again," she says.

"Yet a lot larger than just one colony," Wayne declares. "By the Gods, what I would not give to have AF-210 here," the Star Admiral laments. "Bomb the whole Earth Alliance and their Blue Cosmos puppet masters back to the stone age."

"Respectfully, sir, screw the wishful thinking, we have immediate and real problems here and now to deal with."

"Thanks, Glenaste, I'll send you a Christmas card in due course," Wayne replies sourly to the Commander. "Chief of the Boat, sound general quarters," Wayne orders. "I have the Conn," he says as he walks around the rails and steps up to the platform. Commander Ward acknowledged just as the first heavy strains of _Ghost Opera_, their new GQ theme song, hit the air in the ship.

"Hell just froze over!" Chief Warrant Officer Willy shouts as he runs by the command platform, trailing his shirt and belt behind him flapping in the wind of his passing as he held his pants up with the other hand. Only after he activated his helmsman's station did he have the wherewithal to finish getting dressed. Of course, in so passing CWO Esmeralda could not help but give the usual catcall whistle to the passing Helmsman.

The song continued until every station acknowledged ready for action, which in this case lasted just after the first refrain of the chorus (about a minute and a half). "Attention all hands, this is Star Admiral Centara. Be advised at this time there are no known close-proximity threats to the ship, however you are to remain at general quarters until we explain the situation and modify status. All personnel ranking above Captain or Galaxy Commander from all eight Magi ships are to report to the bridge conference room immediately. That is all." His orders included the _Dominion_, which hell or high water notwithstanding was now a Magi ship as far as everyone was concerned.

The requested officers came to the bridge, as well as Cagalli and Lacus, whom Murrue had suggested would also be best in on this conversation. After all, their ships would be headed into the fire as well, not just the Magi. It took five minutes for everyone to congregate in the bridge, since it turned out there were too many warm bodies to fit in the conference room. Wayne made a note on the wall of the conference room to have that rectified.

"All right, people, listen and listen well. As Willy just declared," and the jerk of the Star Admiral's thumb indicated the Helmsman's station, "Hell is now officially frozen over. For starters, Boaz has been practically erased from the stars by an Earth Alliance nuclear assault." There were some serious grumbles from the whole crowd. "You know the Code Zellbriggen just as well as I, people. Legitimate military target, legitimate military power, the use of nukes is abhorrent but permissible. When you get down to it, that is actually a more elegant solution to Boaz than I had, though one with the 'overkill' flag raised real high."

"Sad but true," 'Spazz' Holmes mutters in earshot to both Murrue and Lacus.

"That's not the problem, though. Legitimate military use of nuclear arms goes no farther than Boaz, because the Earth Alliance is targeting the civilian PLANTs next. We have seen the wreckage of Junius Seven, people. That colony was lucky; it is still in orbit and will be there for some centuries. If they hit any of the October, November, or December PLANTs, there will be no hope for Terra and the billions that live on it." It went without saying that if even half of one of the PLANTs struck Terra, it would cause a Nuclear Winter such as the worst of Cold War theorists could dream of. Two or more halves would almost immediately kill all meaningful life on Terra. Anything beyond that was simply insurance that the cockroaches did not survive humanity's folly.

"Oh holy fucking shit," Galaxy Commander Michaels, the Marine of Marines in the fleet, moans.

"I hate to say this, guys, but we've jacked off at the jumpoff point for long enough. Pay or play time: we don't act, we get to watch the holocaust magnified a thousand times. Who objects?"

"Anyone who objects can discuss it with the 'Alternates Plaque' down in the ladies room," Galaxy Commander Rico declares, which got a few crass laughs from the command personnel that were also trained pilots in their own right. (7)

"That is the measure of it?" Wayne asks, hearing no objections and only one off-color joke to the matter at hand. "All right, people, listen now to the sound of space; for soon enough we will bring the sound of Magi steel to the cold nothing around us," Wayne quotes an old Magi lament about battle in space. "With us being over here roughly between the L3 and L4 points, we have a helluva hike to get over to L5. The straight shot, cutting through the debris belt and near-space, then back through the debris belt and onward to the PLANTs, no go. Too many Earth Alliance pukes to mow through on the way to the inevitable nuke assault. To avoid exhausting ourselves on lesser targets, we arc wide, cutting by the remnants of Yggdrasil and loop in on the Earth Alliance outside flank. Done right, we should be able to 'dissuade' the Earth Alliance from trying again. Hell, if we get real lucky the PLANTs might decide throwing in the towel is the best option as well. Expected transit time is two days, so we have some time to rest up, shine our machines to a high gloss, and prepare for the edge of paradise."

"Two days? To go that far?" Cagalli asks, rather shocked of tone. "No way that's possible!"

"Cagalli, I can drive this ship from here to Mars in four days," Wayne retorts. "Jupiter in five, Saturn in six, Uranus in six and a half, you get the point. L4 to L5 is literally a short one, the only caveat is I have to accelerate smooth for three quarters, decelerate hard for a fifth, and the last five percent we go in on manual. It's going to cook a lot of gas to get there, but this ship has a deep bunkerage. And who knows what we'll come across while we're in route," he declares.

"Okay, we get there," Murrue says to forestall any more arguments. "Then what?"

"Depends solely on what happens between then and now," Wayne declares. "I don't expect ZAFT will take this sitting down. If they have a comparable capability, I expect to see it used in the next day or two. This may have started as a slapping war, but it can only get worse from here."

"We have one chance to stop it," Lacus Clyne says. "I pray we can," she entreats, really meaning she hoped their combined might would be enough to stop it from escalating.

"If we don't do it right the first time, milady, there will not be enough pieces left to pick up," Captain James Freeman tells her from immediately behind where she was standing.

"And now we are on the edge of Paradise," Gerald Lightbringer declares. "Or Hell. So far I'm not sure which."

"We will know soon enough. Galaxy Commanders, Gerald, please remain for contingency planning. Captains Ramius, Athha, Clyne, if you have any ideas, no matter how screwed up they are, I want to hear them ASAP. If there is a way to do this without mass bloodshed, I want to know it and get it going."

"You will, sir," Captain Ramius replies immediately.

"Dismissed."

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

The time draws close to where SEED ends and the history really begins to change. Ouch.

This next chapter is where the serious battle begins. The Mjolnr has had it real easy, dodging the eyes of the Earth Alliance and ZAFT, but now there is no more hiding in the vast expanse of space. The battle has to be done or the blood will flow freely. Yet, can it be done? The Mjolnr suffered heavy losses at the hands of those unidentified Mobile Dolls, can such a reduced and battered (morale-wise, not equipment-wise) force readily face down ZAFT and the Earth Alliance and get away with it?

Oh, while I think about it, don't expect the strange happenings to end. I have one big gag to pull in the next chapter; there are two days of transit, after all, and a certain 'movement' on the ship intends on taking full advantage of that time...with crazy and possibly hilarious results to come. And then there shall be war, because sometimes that is what it takes to stay alive.

Now, I have three things to say about the chapter. First off, the date spread is one of the critical things that happened here: between the first block and the last, two months passed. In that time, the Mjolnr was moving well away from prying eyes and hardened hearts, their only contact with the outside being the Junk Guild ship and that one 'misunderstanding' with Serpent Tail. The thing with the Junk Guild goes beyond the RE H.O.M.E., though, as more than a few ships were roped into the resupply effort by Lowe Gear and The Professor. I may do a side story on that here in a few, a short one. I also have a side story to do for something else that you saw a hint of at the dinner scene, and that side will not be 'young kid' friendly; the casino that Shani designed will also factor heavily into that.

Second, the issue with the Androids may have come out positive this time around (on a D100 roll check, the result came back 92), but don't expect it to be all fluffy and nice come further chapters. The same prejudice against Coordinators will affect Eugenics as well and can easily be translated into an outright hatred of Androids. Hatred is not rational, so don't expect much of an explanation why, but do expect it.

Third, and I am not making this up just off my left arse-cheek, the Star Admiral's commentary at the dinner about how magic was not bullshit is actual back-story to the Jokers Wild and has been from long before I began this story at all. A little more of that comes into play in some of the side stories of the second Jokers Wild arc, but the references are a bit thin. I will leave the main telling points of such reality to the prose of coming chapters; rest assured that Natarle already knows (Marines can be talkative) and will report it when she is released, therefore the Earth Alliance is going to try shoving it down the Star Admiral's throat. The question is, who gets the luxury of gagging about it?

There is one minor detail to clear up in explanation. In the last block, the Star Admiral referenced AF-210, and how he would love to use them to bomb the Earth Alliance back to the stone age. AF-210 is the fleet designator for The Grey Death, a prestige posting for naval officers like no other, and what some said Wayne was headed for before the Admiralty Review derailed him to the Mjolnr. Assault Fleet 210 dates back to the Star Empire Wars, where it was the single most decorated Magi naval formation due to its unmatched record of hundreds of naval victories and successful planetary invasions. The fleet itself is comprised of six Phalanx-class ships, two captured Excalibur-class dreadnoughts (which provide the main planetary assault transport), six Leviathan II-class ships, and two dozen smaller Warships for escort duty. The amount of battle force carried by AF-210 exceeds what would be needed to completely take over Earth four times over. Which makes its involvement in something as pithy as someone else's race war a complete pipe dream on the Star Admiral's part.

And that is all. Next up: After sorting out who will do what and how, the Mjolnr runs headfirst into the evolving battle at Jachin Due, with predictably loud and brutal consequence for everyone involved. Bloodshed will ensue.

**NOTICE**: There is now a side-story of this chapter posted. Read Those Whom Fate Plays With as a supplemental to the section for the free lunch.

* * *

Review Replies: An excellent series of reviews, much thank you to everyone who dropped me a line for the last chapter.

**One Village Idiot**: Pirates, pirates, pirates, what can I say? Regenerate is assumed to have run afoul of Lowe and Gai without Magi interference, but it will make a cameo in the Destiny Arc.

**Shade**: Thanks, man. I( have not begun to haul out the strange love for metal music, and you will see a healthy chunk of that in the coming chapter. YouTbe be the best place to look up any band I discuss.

**Knives 91**: Thanks for the clarification, Knives. And thanks for the idea. Murdoch blitzed is going to be a given, after the shooting is over, I think I might be able to work Kira and Athrun into it as well. Here is some 'more sauce', and here shall come some 'holy shit how big a battle that is sauce' in the next one :P

**Gatomon41 (Chapter 7 Rev Ex Post Facto)**: Okay, now your comment on the Doc makes sense. Thanks for clarifying; if they do a anime of this (no chance in hell of that, har har har) I would advise Tabitha as the Doc, just with a more calm and serene inflection than Flay, until she has to bust some Marine chops that is.

**Etienne Of The West Wind**: I hope my last PM with a partial list of the nonhuman races did not squick you out, I heard no reply from you after that.

**Necroblade**: No problem for the delay on the review, and VERY MUCH THANK YOU FOR BETA WORK!! :P By the Gods, some days I think I need a keeper...

Regardless, I think after several months of exposure to the Magi she will not lose her spine between SEED and Destiny this time around, but I will leave that up to your imagination how it turns out.

Blossom is going to be a tough nut to crack: you're looking at a beam sniper platform with the precursor to the Movable Frame technology, giving it the ability to carry mission-specific equipment and mods into battle. If they can iron out all the bugs, it may be more than a match for what ZAFT has to come...

That's actually a misconception some people hold about 'Controller' positions. The Maintenance Controllers I work with at my day job are all senior mechanics in their assigned field, having been promoted to essentially supervisory status after more than a decade of fixing things. They have to advise junior mechanics of strange issues and repairs for those issues, as well as schedule, defer and prioritize repairs. No simple task, that. However, Mechanic levels among the Magi span from enlisted to the low commissioned Officers (including some Warrant positions, like the Controllers), and she technically answers to the Captain of Engineering for the ship, so she's closer to the command end than I made it seem.

Clancy is one of my all-time fav authors :) his was probably the first intro to the 'real war' genre, things of massive campaigns and exquisite planning and logistics and time versus space and lions and tigers and bears and dragons, oh my. SEED does better than some of the Gundam franchise, but it is still hollow in a lot of places. I hope this is doing better...

Thanks for the help again :P

**Gatomon41 (This chapter)**: I hope I captured the essence of the conversation between Natarle and the Marine in this one. I still haven't gone out of my way to have Azraiel executed, yet, but I think I will get around to it somehow :P

**Semp**: If you can think of it, so can the insane mechanics. Keep those thoughts coming, there is plenty of room for modifications...

Thank you one and all for the reviews. You are adding fuel to the continuing nightmares, rest assured of that :P Keep 'em coming and the inferno only gets hotter, nastier, bloodier, more Nightmare Fuel good!

* * *

The Gripe Sheet:

No gripes outstanding for Ch8, so...

* * *

Footnotes:

(1): The corridors of Magi warships are a magnet for 'fanart' of various types, usually representative of things the ship had done or scenes from the Remembrance, basically glory artwork at its core. This also translates to the fleet moniker as well, in cases where a ship doesn't have much of the first two to fall back on. Also a good morale thing for the crew and a bad thing for the morale of anyone trying a hostile boarding action: shows that the crew is really dedicated to their ship and is willing to fight long and hard for it.

(2): This is an old series of paintings done as a cigar advertisement, and may be a good example of an early meme: critical reviewers of the time thought these paintings sucked because they were too plebian, but the paintings themselves continue to live on and on and on, growing in popularity every year.

(3): The technical term for a female android is Gynoid, on the premise that the prefix andro- is male and gyno- is female. I will not be making that distinction except when deliberately used by a character in the story.

(4): Two codex necklaces are always issued: one is worn by the Magi citizen at all times as a standard identification device (like a driver's license, but more detailed). The other is kept in a safe location, typically a bank or at home in a secured safe, and serves as the family's permanent record and backup of the day-to-day codex. Additional or replacement codex necklaces cost 25 C-bills each.

(5): **Ord**inance

(6): Old caveat of Magi ethics and sense of honor. Mercenaries, as their duty is literally to fulfill their contracts, are typically considered some of the most honorable soldiers in Existence. It is also expected that the mercenary commander is of such moral fortitude that he or she would not readily accept a contract requiring them to do dishonorable acts, which is considered the gold standard for Mercenaries among the Star Empires.

(7): A helluva shout-out to a classic 80's movie: Top Gun. Supposedly the Top Gun second place Plaque was in the ladies' restroom, making this comment an effective insult to anyone not willing to step up to the challenge. All the more insulting that most of the command personnel of the Magi fleet are men, which is an extreme rarity among Magi fleets.


	10. Determination

(Legend of the Jokers Wild, Section 1, Chapter 10: Determination)

(10 September CE 71, 0900 PLANT Standard Time)

(Prior to the nuclear attack on Boaz)

(ZAFT Military Station, Command Center area)

"Chairman, I have mercenary Commander Gai Murakumo to speak to you."

"Send them in," Patrick replies gruffly. If it was possible for anyone to remain pissed off about his family's actions (namely his son's), he was. That Athrun was not supporting the cause of Coordinators over the rest of the Earth Sphere was infuriating him, especially if he was with this rumored massive starship that itself was larger than some colonies...

"Gai Murakumo reporting for briefing on our findings in trying to track down the rogue warship _Absinthe_, Chairman Zala."

"Please deliver your report," he says at least civilly.

"On or about 1 September, we tracked the _Absinthe_ and a sister ship to a location outside the normal bounds of the lagrange points around the planet. We do not have information on the sister ship as to what its hull number or designation is, however I have visually confirmed there is a second ship matching the _Absinthe_, in both configuration and veterancy of the crew." That was an extrapolation on his part, but something safe to say he figured. Given how badass these Magi were purported to be by the crew of the _RE H.O.M.E._, the only way that ship would go would be better.

"I was able to capture a part of an enemy mobile suit in combat against escorting forces, a part which contained a personal effects storage container and therein an identification flashcard for the _Flame Eater_-class warships, of which the _Absinthe_ is one of them. The flashcard itself contains a basic rundown of the ship's stats and arsenal. The remaining contents of the pod were...less than useful in military matters."

"We will need a manifest of materials found in the pod for psychological evaluation," Chairman Zala replied. Someone's leftover junk or personal effects could itself be a telling sign of what that person was like.

"I will have it written up and delivered to you by tomorrow morning," Gai replies. He could have Loretta write up the contents of her foot-locker to give them the impression it had been a female pilot Gai had partially defeated. "Before I could appropriately close on the _Absinthe_ I was engaged and subsequently driven off by four enemy Mobile Armor units from the same unit as the _Absinthe._ The battle ended in a stalemate I had to retreat from due to the threat of more forces approaching the field of battle. In the engagement, my wingman's customized GINN unit was damaged severely by a single missile from the first enemy Mobile Armor to engage us, and, at this time, is still in overhaul to restore it back into service."

"If you have need of parts, forward your requests to the quartermaster here. I will have them released to you immediately," Patrick comments. If nothing else, the Chairman of ZAFT was not going to be shown to be ungrateful to hired help, since the mercenary units usually had capabilities well beyond those of even his best Special Forces.

"Thank you," Gai replies immediately, intent on doing so. "Regardless, we were able to get this information and confirm most of it against your records from the engagement at Mendel. The _Absinthe_, for all intents and purposes, is a heavy gun Warship without any mobile forces compliment of its own. Arguably, it does not need them, given that most of its arsenal is dedicated to anti-MS weapons."

"Wait a moment, if what you are saying is correct, then how does the ship expect to defend itself against a concentrated mobile suit attack?" Chairman Zala asks in clear confusion. It was apparent to Gai the Chairman did not realize warships could be more of a threat to a Mobile Suit than the other way around.

"It does so by way of having hundreds of independent small-scale weapons, equivalent to the armaments of a fighter, MS or mobile armor. These are apparently married to an impressive targeting and tracking array the battle at Mendel demonstrated capable of reliably tracking, targeting and eliminating even the latest ZAFT models. The prevalence of ballistic cannons and small missile weapons suggests these Warships share practically nothing in common with Earth Alliance ships, of which they are far larger than the _Drake_-, _Nelson_- or _Agamemnon_-class ships. For the record, the longest Earth Alliance ship is the _Archangel_-class at 420 meters, the _Absinthe_ is 660 meters, larger and far more powerful offensively than the _Archangel_ in terms of sustained fire."

"Did the intel you came across include information on defensive staying power?" Zala asks after a moment.

"Yes, the ship is apparently armored in two thousand, two hundred tons of something called Lamellor-Carbide multi-threat laminated armor, on top of a 96,000-ton hardened and reinforced internal structure. By our estimates, it would take a fleet of five _Nazca_-class ships approximately an hour of sustained fire to breech the armor and cause enough damage to the inside of the _Absinthe_ to constitute a kill, barring you hit something critical such as an ammo bunker or the engines." The unstated, but nonetheless true, implication was his estimate was based on ZAFT naval gunnery being 'uneven' at best, and far more likely to miss than hit when at their worst. The obvious rejoinder to such a comment was the _Absinthe_ may give said ZAFT fleet _ten minutes_ to live under the best circumstances, definitely not the hour Gai thought would be necessary.

"So you estimate the threat posed by these ships to be drastic enough that they could, theoretically, pose a grave, sustained hazard to the ZAFT fleet and home defense?"

"If they are so inclined, yes. Given where we found them, how we tracked them, and how hard it was to pursue, it is fairly reasonable to say they want precisely nothing to do with ZAFT or the Earth Alliance at all."

"How are they being supplied?" he asks.

"They are likely operating off internal stores. The intel we picked up indicates the _Absinthe_ has 4000 tons internal storage for parts and material for the ship, 375 tons provisions food and water for the crew of the ship, and 1500 tons general-purpose cargo space. Assuming no extra foodstuffs carried, the ship should be able to operate for no less than 200 days on a full supply, and assuming their general-purpose cargo is dedicated to provisions for the crew, as many as 1000 days. Whether the ship can hold orbit for that long, I do not know." One thing Gai was not going to do was implicate the Junk Guild in supporting the fleet. Gai had recorded a partial glimpse of their main ship from his battle recorder's records—it scared the living piss out of him, given that at scale to the other _Flame Eater-_class docked with it, the ship in question had to be over five kilometers long bow to stern and studded with more than four times the gun ports minimum.

There was only one way a direct confrontation with the fleet that the _Absinthe_ would go, and that was straight to hell for the offending party. Apparently, even the Admiral of the fleet was an extremely accomplished pilot of a customized Gundam, capable of taking out the Freedom and Justice in close quarters, according to Lowe's more detailed description of the fleet after the _RE H.O.M.E._ had finished its resupply run. Anyone with that kind of skill and hardware was themselves beyond just plain good and could turn ZAFT into mulch without much in the way of effort. Gai knew he had to play it straight and narrow here, or it would be him on the chopping block next.

"Is there anything else you would like to add, Commander?"

"Only one thing. I included the radar specifications I tracked from their units in the report. If what I received is any indication, there are two things ZAFT has to worry about. One, the faster a targeted unit moves, the more likely the ship and mobile forces are to score hits. Speed does not equate to armor, never has and never will, and these guys can prove it—did prove it against me. I did best to dodge their shots at slow movement rates, but the faster I moved the more times they got within touching distance to me. Second, the power of their sensors is such they will burn through Neutron Jammers. I was not able to get a clear cut to their radios, but they were coordinating somehow—and coordinating very well."

"Understood. Thank you for the assistance, Commander Murakumo. We will be in touch."

Seconds later, Gai was outside the office and heading back toward the dock and his ship. Elijah joined up, walking behind and slightly to Gai's right. A hall later, he asks the burning question: "Will they try?"

"Not likely," Gai replies immediately. "The Earth Alliance is operating, moving forces and material in large quantities. And, as our own encounters demonstrate, that fleet is not something you can fight in a conventional manner, unless you don't want your fleet to exist after the shooting is done."

There was silence in walking for several minutes, both contemplating the battle past and the likely battles to come. Whatever Elijah thought of as possible, Gai thought of the same and three ways it could be worse, though neither knew they were coming to the same or similar conclusions. "Now that we have a clear idea what we were up against, I am glad that Mobile Armor stopped us at a distance. I don't think either of us would have survived getting close to the ship."

"Sad to say, but you are correct," Gai replies. The footage of the battle against ZAFT showed that even the _Absinthe_'s laser anti-missile systems, primarily defensive armaments to intercept missiles, had scratched a GuAIZ MS. If a purely _defensive_ measure on one of their ships was that god-awful powerful, the real net effect of their _offensive_ measures would be less than pretty to whomever their sights crossed.

-x-x-x-

(24 September CE 71, 0605 hours UTC)

To the Star Admiral, the sound of combat boots on the decks behind him were nothing new. This was a warship, after all, and the Quartermaster did not stock tennis shoes for duty uniforms. Thus, he disregarded the sound as he continued working on contingencies with Gerald, Calamira, and Waltfeld, building a set of possible scenarios that could be used to bring the navies of both sides to a screeching halt before more civilians died.

"Star Admiral, looks like you have visitors," Commander Ward declares. If anyone would see to arrivals first it would be him, as Wayne was not Conn and the current command officer of the ship saw to such things.

"Keep it running, guys," Wayne says as he stands to speak to the arrivals. "What goes, Marines?" Wayne asks as he steps off the command platform to face the two Marines who had come forward.

"Sir, we've got an issue we need hashed out by a higher," the Point Commander of the two says. "I say this guy's full of it, but he's claiming half the Marine Galaxy is in with him. I gots no way to prove him right or wrong, so..."

"Well, you measured the quandary in precise terms, yet have not told me the tale of the woe. Speak, man, I don't eat Enlisted for breakfast."

"He wants to modify the Tradition of Music. Rather significantly."

Commander Ward whistled low, in apparent surprise. "That's a damn big and loud stick to wave at the rest of the crew, Marine."

"I am aware of this, Commander," the Marine Point Officer in question (a lady of maybe 18, as far as Wayne could tell) replies.

"Justify it," Wayne replies simply, with a completely neutral inflection.

"Sir, I bring two points to this argument. First, I do not speak of eliminating the use of the Tradition, nor magnifying it, I speak only to change the flexibility of certain ritualistic songs we can do just as well with other songs in addition to the standard. Second, as we are likely going to be here for over a decade, maybe permanently, we need to look to the fact that we shall become our own entity, raised by the Empire but separate from it. Contrary to some dunderheads' belief, we will not simply be able to walk away from that, or those who will inevitably be left behind will be eaten alive by the hive of scum and villainy in our wake."

Wayne cracked a crooked, almost evil smile at her comments. "You are saying that because we shall be a separate entity for so long, we should act like it?" Wayne was referring to an oddity called a Descendant Empire, a principal of Magi law allowing a group of persons to move away from Core Magi territory and influence to set up their own government based on the Magi model, with modifications made by their group. Some Descendant Empires worked, some such Empires collapsed in a spectacular self-destruction.

"Aff, Star Admiral," the Point Officer replies.

"Very well, your arguments should boil down to 'it is tradition for a reason' and 'we will return home, therefore we play by Magi rules UFN,' am I correct?" the Star Admiral asks of the Point Commander.

"Aff, Star Admiral, this is so," he replies immediately.

"You present me a hellish quandary. You both have valid arguments, and given this is such a hotbed traditionalist issue, I cannot simply take sides and expect to live through the ensuing Trials of Refusal. Therefore, the only way to solve this issue is in the thoroughly Magi way: the Trial of Possession. Yet, we do this with a twist," the Star Admiral had resumed his evil grin, which worried everyone up to and including the Commander.

"Ship's Jester reporting, all quiet in the toilet stalls, and for good reason. That is all." Wayne glanced at the Maintenance Controllers, but said nothing as she shrugged. A ration of bad chicken had been found the hard way, after a dozen crew or so had it for a meal and came down with a light case of food poisoning. It had led to some horridly rank toilet rooms for a while, and they probably still were. Wayne only needed one whiff to lose any urge to use the shitcan in the near future.

"Attention all hands, this is Wayne Centara." He took a short pause for the room he was in to quiet down, which was the loudest of the ship's groups by far. "Listen and listen well, for we have an issue of tradition to hash out today, and, by extension, how it will be applied in two days hence. Normally I would disregard something like this in the face of nuclear war, but since this is such a divisive matter and we do not have room to spare in our minds over such matters, we will do this in the Trial of Possession and let combat be thy judge of conviction. The issue at hand is there are parties, not fully declared at this time, who wish to make changes to the songs used in the Tradition of Music." He could hear the massive combination of cheer and jeer echo throughout the hull, but it was short lived—ten seconds later, it was quiet except for the sound of the engines. "Now, there are limits allowed for change under normal Magi guideline, but some are set in stone. I need not tell you which, we have all heard them used. This Trial settles the eternal question as to whether or not we are allowed to modify those areas considered but never really legally declared 'Exempt' for a long time."

Wayne takes another pause before continuing; "I have no position on this matter myself. I personally revel in the spirit of the Tradition, the defiance of our foes and the horror of combat, not necessarily in the fact that it is tradition or that certain groups are favored by the tradition. Therefore, I am not participant of this battle, nor shall be any of the senior command staff Century Commander and up. I require two or more Galaxy Commanders or Ship Captains who have an opinion on the matter to report to the bridge ASAP. Additionally, all non-essential personnel who believe this is worth fighting for shall within the next 60 minutes register to take part in a ship-wide Trial of Possession."

Again, Wayne paused for the cheering to subside. "The term of the Trial is as follows: two teams, offense and defense, will be segregated and prepared for battle. Defense is required to eliminate all offensive personnel. Offense is required to storm the Bridge successfully, meaning that more than five persons must enter the bridge from the Offense team. The mode of combat is simple: Quartermasters will break out and issue appropriate quantities of paintball ammo for all participants, and the battle will be conducted by way of Combat Training and Simulation gear for all personnel. The Trial begins in 90 minutes. Register, draw weapons, draw marker ammo, and stand for your beliefs. Any questions can be forwarded to the AI entity, who will sort out any technicalities or forward them to me. The clock is ticking; for those persons not able or unwilling to go through a match of paintball, you may vote your choice and it will be counted for or against the end score of the battle. That is all."

"Star Admiral?" the AI prompts.

"Yes, Ai?" Wayne replies.

"Five thousand participants, and the number is going up by the _second_."

"This is going to be a sight to see," Andrew Waltfeld says with something of a smile. A friendly game of paintball was something he had no objections to. "Which way to the coffee?"

"No battle is proper without coffee," Commander Ward affirms before picking up a growler phone and dialing a number from memory. "Three pitchers of your best coffee for the command staff. Charge back to my account;" pause as the guy on the other end of the logical connection said something back; "Roger that." He hangs up; "Five minutes. May not be a match for what you were serving on the _Eternal_, but it is close."

Waltfeld had no idea what Magi defined as 'paintball' and how it was used in Trial.

-x-

"Attention all personnel, the Trial of Position will begin in two minutes. A warning bell will sound at that time. Two rules of engagement updates: there will be no combat in line of sight to the dock collars leading to non-Magi vessels or inside those vessels, and there will be no combat actions taken inside or shooting from cover inside any of the clubs, restaurants, or the casino. Anything else is expected. All personnel are cautioned to avoid taking shots at ship's crew not wearing CTS gear, and all uninvolved staff are cautioned to remain in quarters or at your duty stations until further notice. May combat be thy judge, victory thy jury, and history the recorder of these events."

"Lock and load!" Elisa orders. Magazines were inserted, breech open markers were removed, and bolts were dropped to chamber marker rounds. "Confirm all energy weapons down to training standards or all heavy energy weapons are rigged with training designators."

"All set, boss lady," Diane replies.

"Missiles verify type as paint marker only," Elisa finishes up her prep orders.

"Ready!" Helga replies.

"This is going to get messy," Victoria declares as hers was the last bolt in the point to slam forward. A moment later, the same Marine activated the barrel motor on her 10mm Gattling (A minigun rechambered to a 10mm heavy cartridge).

"We all shall have to scrub down our armor after all is said and done, but it will be worth it," Helga notes with an evil intonation.

The sound of a very loud school-bell echoes throughout the ship, issuing warning that the Trial was to commence. Cheering could be heard from both sides of the ship, the stern of the ship where the Red Team had started (the offensive) and the bow where the defensive team was at. "Advance to contact. You have point, Helga."

Helga led off the advance for her Point, shield set forward and her Panzersturmgewehr (armor assault rifle) poking around the side of the shield. Given they were starting in a secondary corridor, definitely not the main corridor of the ship (sniper bait that would be), combat in brutal close-quarters fashion was to be expected and very shortly. As she filed out of the barracks, the others followed close behind and dispersed, their shields also set forward to make sure the two inches of woven Gundanium and diamond took the damage first, not their personal armor sets.

As more of the 'red' team moved forward, it was inevitable that some of the defensive force would take exception to their presence. A burst of M4 assault rifle raked the front of her shield, and it was always considered bad form to take hits from even assault rifles since freak accidents could happen. So, she continued the shield advance form while using the camera sight on her MAR-22C to sight up the offending engine mechanic and fire a short burst at him. Helga did not get so lucky as to put her first burst on target, but the second salvo did hit him square in the arm and right side of the chest. The CTS pack he was wearing registered the hits as valid and immediately sounded the tone indicating he was down, which also disabled his ammo from causing 'damage' to other personnel after four seconds, the theoretical maximum it would take someone to die under average battlefield conditions.

"Good game, Marine," the Mechanic declares as she continues walking forward. Helga nods her acknowledgement of the accolade but does not slow down during her march forward.

It was another fifty meters before any of the defenders got adventurous. "Tango call! Red Marines at one hundred, Corridor Charlie-3-Alpha, engaging and requesting assistance!" a defending Marine puts out on the radio, but also made the mistake of putting it out on her loudspeaker. Helga had just barely enough time to duck down C-3-A-4, a side access to crew bunks, before a pair of 100mm marker rounds impacted on the bulkhead she was nearby. It was severely discouraged for Marines to stand around and take fire from anything larger than 90mm even with the shield, since APFSDS (1) rounds in large caliber could theoretically crack the shield plate in as little as one shot, though this was tested to be very unlikely. Such a weapon almost assuredly would bust the main armor a Marine wore in few shots, which would make it a bad day for them, so...

"Elisa, a little covering fire?" Helga asks, before the distinct sound of her sniper rifle barked the response needed. The 20mm Armor Sniper Rifle was a venerable Magi mainstay, and one very adept at silencing Armored Infantry in one to three shots with very high velocity armor-penetrating rounds (when using real ammo). In this case, the bark of three shots is all it took before that Marine was out of action, along with the 100mm short-charge autocannon that was giving the point hell.

"That was fun," Victoria says sarcastically; her shield had taken significant damage from the enemy Marine's shooting spree (four hits).

"At least nothing notable came of it," Karen grumps, really meaning that she wanted something to come of it.

It took thirty seconds of wary shield marching before anyone replied: "Oh, something came of it all right," Diane bemoans while moving to take refuge in a bathroom from the suddenly vehement reaction of the enemy to their advance. "Damn traditionalists, no respect for the feelings of the rest of us."

"Cuts both ways, Diane," Helga replies crassly. A series of training marker rockets zoom down the hallway, two of which struck in the doorframe of the cargo area she was in, splattering paint all over the place. "Damn, they are counting that as damage? Bullshit, it never even struck me!"

"How are they stacked?" Victoria asks.

"Oh, not as well as you," Elisa replies; even with an advanced targeting system, she could still somewhat safely poke her head around a corner and observe, or, as she was now, simply use the gunsight camera on her monster rifle to rattle off rounds.

"Can we keep my bust size out of the conversation, please?" Victoria asks in almost a whine.

"Certainly not, we need something to distract ourselves with while being shot at," Diane notes almost sweetly. Victoria's bust was the second-largest in the unit, defeated only by Helga, though the latter was only given a pass on the subject due to the fact that she was well over the two meter mark and massed more than half the guys on the ship. Helga could rewrite the book on the word 'Amazon' and even with working out as she did, she still retained a pair that drew attention anywhere she went out of armor. And it did make Diane kind of jealous in the end, but not enough to do anything about it.

"Less talk, more action, people," Elisa orders. "Blue team ain't going to die of the dumbs, we have to push them over."

"All personnel, cease fire in C-3-A for medical emergency, repeat, all personnel cease fire in C-3-A until further notice."

"That's us, people, check fire!" Elisa shouts, lowering her sniper rifle and beginning the process of changing magazines out. It took five seconds, but prior to her finishing up all fire stopped in the corridor, to the point whereby the Marines strayed out from their places of cover and looked back and forth through the corridor to take stock of how hotly-contested it was. The presence of at least five dozen marines and twice that in non-Armored personnel gave enough evidence, and C-3-A was not a primary access corridor at that.

The charging of the medical personnel toward where Elisa stood caused her whole point to come to attention, awaiting them passing by; this also gave them the best field of run toward the area where the injured was.

"Hey, Reds, why you messin' with the Tradition?" one of the opposition Marines asks.

"Why? Because we're going to be here for a decade, at least, no sense fucking around about it," Diane replies. "We might as well start acting like our own group, and _Nightwish_ is getting old, like real old," she continues after a moment.

"So?"

"After a decade of smacking ZAFT and the Earth Alliance around, like we will definitely have to in coming years, you think you can just walk away from that? Walk away from the lands you have held, people you have defended?" There was no answer from the Blue Team. "As I thought. We will be Magi, but we will be far more than the sum what we brought along. Best we plan ahead for it."

"Then what would you use, say, as replacement for _Tenth Man Down_?"

"Listen, soon you will know," Diane replies, queuing up the song she favored for the said purpose. One could easily say her intention was arrogant incarnate, especially when wagered against the general dwindling of Religion in the Empire from being the main focus in everyday life, but the same could be said of the uses _Tenth Man Down_ was put to.

"Just so long as it ain't no wussy thing," the defender let the threat hang unstated thereafter.

"AaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! COME BACK HERE YOU PINKO BITCH!" The voice, despite the unusual insult, was definitely that of a very pissed-off Haro. Said Haro came into the corridor from one of the shower rooms nearby, chasing a smaller, pink, and bouncing Haro with a three-pound sledgehammer held high. "YOU PINK POP-SMOOCHING MAGGOT! DIE ALREADY!" **CLANG, CLANG**, two solid misses with the hammer, but they were close enough to hold the hope that one would contact.

"Dude! What the fuck?" the Point Commander for the Blue Marines asks.

"It's kinda cute. Where do I get one?" Helga asks.

"You don't want one," the third trooper from the opposing Blue Point says immediately thereafter. "I heard about how this thing annoys the fuck out of the Marines and our Haros. Apparently, it got away last time, but not this time..."

"I call a combat challenge," Elisa says immediately. "When open fire is called, and when it comes back into the hall, we unload on it, trying to push it toward the other side. First to get it past the opposing side's bathroom wins, and the loser point stands down. Sound fair?"

"Works for me, if it works for my point," the point Commander says, followed by a cacophony of 'I'm in' from the remainder.

"AI acknowledges challenge. I will administer," the AI declares over the radio.

The Medtechs charged back through, this time with a gunner on a stretcher. The location where he had taken the hit—his neck—did not look very good.

"Wait for it," Elisa orders.

"Resume fire in Corridor C-3-A, repeat, resume fire in Corridor C-3-A."

"Wait for it," and everyone's sensors could see the two Haros coming back from the storage area and into the path of ten waiting Marines. "Wait for it," she orders unnecessarily.

"DAMN YOU PINK FUCK-BALL CHUT-CHODE—" Elisa figured it was real bad if the ship's Haro was stringing nonsensical words together as something attempting to be an insult.

"GO!" The Ship's AI orders.

The Pink Haro never made it past the halfway mark between the starboard and port sides of the hallway, as the fire began immediately from ten Marines and very little of it missed, even such a small target. It was trapped between two walls of paint rounds knocking it fore and aft violently, jockeying it toward the two ends of the halls in both support of the shipboard Haro and in contest to prove which team was the better marksmen. For a few moments it appeared to be leaning toward Elisa, but as two of the enemy stopped to reload, Elena struck like the trained Armor Sniper she really was, two well-placed shots knocking it well past the opposing line as well as caving part of its metal frame in.

"Challenge completed, victor is Red Team."

**CLANG**, and the ship's Haro finished what Elisa started, hammering it flat and into several pieces with the sledgehammer. As was his duty, he swept the debris out of the walking path before Elisa's point walked past, shoveling the remnants into a debris vacuum that led to an incinerator and nanotech material reprocessor. "Who da man, bitch? Who da man?" it asks the vacuum port, or more likely the Haro it just flattened.

Helga had resumed point for the team, pushing the 'Red' lines forward in the corridor and also varying the percentage of the ship held by 'Red' with practically each step (though be it by fractions of a percent per step, it still counted). Diane had turned on her radio retransmit for the Tradition of Music, only rather than _Nightwish_ as the tradition required, she had _Iced Earth_ playing.

-x-

"'Descending from Heaven, The Angel swore to bring them down, The Hunter, the thunder, the wrath of Heaven's coming down,'" Gerald Lightbringer echoes what he heard of the song now echoing up and down the corridors of the _Mjolnr_.

"That's not on the level, in my opinion. Religion is dead, why are we—" the Flight Controller in question immediately silenced herself with the look from the Star Admiral.

"No, Controller, Religion is not dead, and it will never die completely so long as sentience exists. There shall always be a reverence for powers beyond the known mortal coil, and even our own faiths, or lack thereof, include reverence for such mundane, confirmable pursuits as wizardry and Executors, which in other lands are religions themselves. Besides, I don't here you griping about religious reference in _Nightwish_ music, what gives you the right to complain about—what is that music, anyway?"

"_Iced Earth_, sir," the Maintenance Controller, who doubled as the Jester, replied. "Song's name is _The Hunter_."

"Where is religion referenced in _Nightwish_?" the Flight Controller asks staunchly.

"Pick a song. Almost any song has hints of it, many of them directly reference religious concepts, such as the ancient Greek mythos in _The Siren_, the river Styx in _Planet Hell_, the end of days legends in _The Islander_, need I go on?" Gerald Lightbringer replies.

"_Dark Passion Play_ is discontinuity, I'm not counting it and I'm counting your argument spurious on invoking it," she replies weakly. She lost, she knew it, and she knew everyone else on the bridge knew it. Besides, such subjects were not something one normally argued with an officer that outranked her by five places and expected to win.

"Fangirl syndrome," Gerald replies in kind.

"I like this theme," Star Admiral Centara notes as Gerald approaches the holotank to review the force status. "_The Hunter_...it may sound condescending, more so than some of the traditional _Nightwish_ themes, but I think that when combined with our tactical and technological superiority, it may just be enough to break their morale."

"And breaking morale is easier than breaking bodies or machines," Gerald completes the thought. "Probably a lot less bloody, as well."

"This is a good theory you pose," Wayne says. "Talk to me, Gerald. I am not much of a metal-head when you count coup. Who else would be a good option?

"Oh, plenty, plenty," Gerald replies with an evil smile. "I can assemble you a true symphony of destruction ranging from _Black Sabbath_ all the way to _Within Temptation_, hit every high point in between such as this new one in _Iced Earth_, classic Magi scare tactics from _Nightwish_, and music so powerful it should be illegal in _Dragon Force_. Shall I go on?" he asks for added effect.

Wayne smiled serenely for a moment. "Do it."

"You daring me to do it?" Gerald asks in response.

"Dare, order, invocation of apocalyptic evil, whatever you want to call it. I just want results."

"Well, apocalyptic evil is out, Satan and I are not on speaking terms. Every time we get together, he ends up accusing me of stealing his beer, I punch him out; it goes back and forth." The problem with Gerald saying such things is he always spoke in such a fashion that it held the patina of legitimacy, since in most cases it was impossible to distinguish what he said was real from his bending of the truth. And with his Codex being almost completely classified, there was really no telling whether or not he was lying about this or other matters.. "On the other hand, I think I can assemble an orchestra of death, that it may be lost on them this time around, but if we have to go to guns with them at a later time, the sound of the music will make them shit their pants."

"Fine by me," Wayne replies. "I expect all necessary paperwork filed and lists readied within the next six hours."

"Aff, Star Admiral." Gerald gestures to the holotank. "Oh, look, our maestro of the Marine Resistance is doing helluva good job. This may come to grips outside the doors here, and very shortly at that."

-x-

For Elisa, things were far from as clear-cut as Century Commander Lightbringer would have them believe. The fighting had moved out of C-3-A into C-3, a short port-to-starboard maintenance corridor that was surprisingly easy to clean out (just three defensive infantry, no armor), and into corridor C, one of the main access corridors of the ship and where the true fighting was being done.

"For what it's worth, it appears we now hold the aft 80 percent of the ship," Victoria notes, preparing for a final push into corridor C and likely eventual defeat.

Karen put voice to her fears: "It's going to be this last 20 percent that kills us. We are building a pressurized defensive scenario for the Blue team, which will probably triple their effectiveness." It was the classic Magi concern writ in one description. Magi did well enough on the offensive, but put the same soldiers in a defensive battle and their effectiveness doubled. Put more pressure on them in the defense and effectiveness increased further. Put them in a 'Final Protective Fire' scenario and it tripled or quadrupled. It was one of the reasons why the Negaverse had the saying 'Enough troops is never enough when storming Magi fortifications'.

"Then we make their lives living hell, and hopefully give the enemy a breach that our comrades can exploit," Victoria replies immediately. "Victory or death! What do you want to do with your life?"

"I dunno, live long enough to find a great guy and have some wildly athletic sex would be nice," Diane replies.

"You probably will never know how many hearts you just broke," Helga comments.

"Oh well," Diane replies immediately. She cared not a whit for the bisexual or lesbian ethos, and clearly showed it.

"Unit, jumpoff, three, two, one, now," Elisa forestalls the degenerating conversation with her orders.

Helga was the first around the corner, using the classic Magi aggressive shield advance technique to move forward into the corridor they had cleared. Her shield took some 20mm rounds, but she gave as well as she received in addition to Diane firing a beam heavy machine gun around her right side to add to the fire headed down the hall toward the enemy. Hand grenades from Elisa and Victoria joined the direct fire from the front two, detonating in close proximity to the enemy Armored Marines and the not-so-armored defensive personnel. The main flank guard was dropped by a round from Elisa's armor sniper rifle, paving the way for the unit to jump forward and clean house.

Corridor C-3 was short, only fifteen meters long, and the Marines took seconds to cross it. Out in C Corridor main, they walked into a gap between the Blue front line and the troops coming up behind it. Immediately Diane and Karen reoriented right to guard against the reinforcements, Helga and Victoria guarded left and began shooting up the backs of the enemy Marines with their support weapons. Faced with fire from Red marines on both sides, the Blue line only took five seconds to collapse, though not without casualties: Karen took a simulated Portable Ion Cannon blast in the back and was, theoretically, killed when her jump jet fuel cooked off. In response, she took a knee to acknowledge she was dead.

"Move!" Helga shouts. "Move it up!" She suits actions to words, shield set forward and stomping down the walkway, her right arm back to deploy the pilebunker, an armor-penetrating weapon designed expressly to kill Elementals and Armored Infantry by ramming a long spike through them.

"Charge!" Elisa shouts, cranking her external speakers to the max, to haunt the enemy they were charging down with _Primo Victoria_ by _Sabaton_. Particularly egregious and demoralizing were the lines '_We've been here before, used this kind of war, as crossfire grinds through the sand; our orders were easy, it's kill or be killed; blood on both sides will be spilled!_' as the four remaining charged forward to take advantage of defensive disarray while the remainder of the red force closed up on their rear.

Helga was the first in, followed closely by Diane and Victoria, with Elisa a pace behind. Helga led off by slamming into one of the front-rank Marines to drive his shield aside and slam in with a simulated pilebunker strike. His battle computer acknowledged he would have received almost a meter of steel penetrator rod through the heart for his lack of bracing properly, a kill in real-world terms, before Helga backed off and braced her shield again to stave off any point-blank 20mm or autocannon fire. Diane had the real shocktrooper kills of the engagement, as she charged the enemy she ejected her shield, fired jump-jets to blast clear over the Marines in the front, and landed in among the second-rank Marines who were not really expecting anything remotely that suicidal. Her simulated beam saber work was both deadly and incredibly graceful, claiming six Marines before a simulated AT4-Block-16 would have blown her left leg off and not left her much in the way of options. Still, with the Marines down, the unarmored infantry was easy pickings for the Marines on the Red side, as Elisa knocked off the last remaining forward-line Marine, Victoria moved forward and used her shield-mounted Gattling to spray the mechanics-turned-defenders down mercilessly with paint rounds. The sight and hits from their 5.56mm rifles, effective against personnel, were useless against Marines armored in five tons of ultra-dense armor plate.

"Sniper fifteen reporting Charlie corridor is cleared, bring it on up!" She had technically lost two of her point in the fighting, which for a simulated shipboard battle was slightly better than par; in a real engagement against real opponents (such as Negaverse or Dynasty heavy infantry), Elisa figured it would be her and Victoria remaining, maybe not even that.

"Someone snitched!" Victoria shouts, firing a L110 Infantry Support Laser (simulated) down the hall toward corridor C-1, the main cross-access to Alpha Corridor (the latter being the backbone of the ship's corridors that ran the whole length of the ship).

"Shit!" Elisa replies, since she was picking ammo for her armor sniper rifle off a sniper that had been downed by Diane's wild antics in close quarters. Her rifle came up, but before she could even sight an enemy in, a 120mm marker round tagged the frame of the gun, which her battle computer registered as critical damage to her sniper rifle. She dropped it aside immediately and picked up a stray 80mm long-charge grenade launcher to continue fighting, taking care to set a non-critical waypoint on her tactical map so she could come back and reclaim her favorite rifle after the shooting. One, two, three grenades went downrange before Victoria's shield ejected of its own accord, too damaged in simulation to provide her reasonable protection (such would not happen in a real battle).

"Get behind me!" Helga shouts, moving forward to assist Victoria by shielding the diminutive but stacked Marine with her shield. Simulated missiles flew down the hallway and into the enemy ranks from the approaching Red troops behind the lead.

"Move it up! Take these surats down!" a Star Captain shouts as he jumps over several of the blue team that were laying down to simulate casualties. Just after he came flat and braced, the bottom edge of his shield came up, revealing a pair of 120mm short-charge autocannons on the inside face linked to the shield block trigger. Two squeezes let loose a hellish amount of red paint, liberally coating one of the defenders with paint splotches that took him down in simulation; in his right hand a M4 assault rifle delivered red paint death to several mechanics that were prior covering behind the Marines.

"Hey, Elise, finish up with my rifle," the sniper nearby where she lost her rifle declares.

"Thanks, Tina, I'll be back with it shortly," Elisa replies, realizing who the sniper was Diane had downed. With the rifle and several more magazines of ammo, she was on her way toward the front again.

"Sniper, hot shooting so far. You think you can thin the herd in the Charlie-one corridor?"

"Aff, Star Captain," Elisa replies immediately. "Cover forward! Sniper at work!"

"Cover forward, aff ma'am!" a larger guy shouts in reply as he side-steps out into the hallway with his shield forward. "Work fast, I can't hold forever!"

Elisa was ahead of his request, as he braced down on the ground she braced around the right side of his shield, and began firing aimed shots at the enemy who were being distracted by the other Marines firing over the height of his shield. Her efforts were lost in the din of the fire trading hands, which is what she wanted. With each shot, another Marine was injured or downed, and by the time the first magazine dropped out of her rifle the enemy realized that someone far more precise than just a Marine was at work here. They never zeroed in on her fast enough, though, before her rifle silenced the last of the main opposition in the short tunnel. "Clear forward! Move out!" the Star Captain shouts, suiting actions to words as he moved forward in a shield charge that itself was almost reckless. His team followed close, however, which told Elisa he had the complete respect of his unit. Elisa followed close, knowing the Alpha Corridor would qualify as a 'target-rich environment' for people of her skill set.

"Sniper, hack into the bridge, enter and clear!" the Star Captain orders over the sound of renewed battle fire, with ordinance heading in at least six directions as the Red Team was being squeezed from that many directions in just this one corridor alone. Elisa spared a moment for amazement: Magi were always taught hard defense, but every now and again a unit cropped up that was better, almost aces on the offense. This showed all the hallmarks of an offensive unit by the book, as the Blue Team was being pushed back faster than their defensive skills ratcheted up to the increasing challenge and pressure.

She took two shots downrange to take out more vociferous resistance, then racked her rifle on the rear of her right shoulder plate and pulled two beam sabers to literally hack her way through the doors. Being a Marine sniper, she knew an old, dirty trick of the _Phalanx_-class bridge doors, a certain locking mechanism could be tripped to retract the doors if you shoved beam sabers through two certain points on the door. It was set up that way as an ostensible rescue mechanism, and strangely the Negaverse had never twigged to it: many was the story where Negaverse infantry had died literally leaning against the doors of a _Phalanx_ bridge when they could not get inside and take out the ship's CIC before they were flanked and eradicated by Marines.

With the mechanism tripped, the blast doors slammed open and Elisa was the first to sweep inside, immediately looking for armed threats. Satisfied that Blue had not established a foothold inside the bridge, she began looking for the enemy commander, a search that did not itself take more than a second. "Tango! Hands up!" she shouts as her armor sniper rifle centers on Star Commodore Jin Kojima, the fleet admiral-in-training and captain of the escort monitor _Redland_.

"Hands up!" one of the follow-on MS technicians shouts, his M4 centered on the enemy commander.

"Valid threat—" Elisa shouts as he begins to bring a pistol up, but she reacted faster: the head vulcan on her armor, chambered to nine millimeter, rattled off a dozen rounds onto the center of his chest, creating a neat circle of red paint just above his sternum. That he was still in his officer's uniform did not matter according to the exercise, nor did Elisa give much credence to the thought until after she had tagged him, realizing he might not be all that happy about being 'marked' in such a fashion.

Elisa realized as he came to his knees that directly behind the enemy commander was the two highest-ranking officers on the ship, as well as one of the commanders of the Three Ships. Immediately, she stands down the massive armor sniper rifle; resting the butt of the rifle on the ground and bringing it vertical put the muzzle brake of the rifle well above her head. "Armor Sniper Elisa reporting objective completed, Star Admiral."

The shock on the face of the Commander from the _Eternal_ was itself rather amusing to the Armor Sniper, though it faded fast as the ship's AI reported the trial completed in a Red Team victory. _Never seen a force that relies on the strength of the Infantry, have you_, Elisa thinks crassly about the Commander from the Three Ships. She figured it was the same everywhere: the sheer awe of sixty tons of combat hardware had to have the most sex appeal for commanders, but relying too much on Mobile Forces was a sure way to doom yourself to a fast death. Training and outfitting 30 conventional (unarmored) infantry or 5 armored infantry cost less than the average Mobile suit and pilot training.

"Neg, no longer Armor Sniper," the Star Admiral replies. "Elite Specialist. As shall each of your team be promoted. Everyone on this bridge thinks you are way under-ranked for how good you are, and that performance you just gave is proof enough."

"Sir, I—that's way too much, Star Admiral, there's a lot better out there than just the five of us," Elisa protests, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the dwindling shooting down the corridor and the length of the ship.

It went unheeded: "Ai, file the paperwork, I'll sign off on it within the hour. For the record, Point Commander, when you show skills like that, it is only fair they are recognized, especially after the decades of deprivation this ship has seen. And by your team's own logic, we will be here a decade, so promotions may be in order. Who knows how long it will take us to fix this jaloppy and get home, when everything is said and done?"

"All right, Elite Spec, I need to talk to your unit's maestro, compare notes about symphonies of demoralization. The rest of you, go find some beers. Losers get to clean up the Trial area," Century Commander Gerald Lightbringer orders in back-to-back declarations. The outcome for the losers was unspoken tradition of practice exercises and Trial by Combat, of which this fell into both categories. The AI was already passing orders out to that effect.

-x-x-x-

(25 September CE 71, 2010 hours UTC)

Kika found Gerald in the Club 300, much as she expected she would find him: half in the bottle, half out, sitting in a corner on the upper balconies, with more than a few empty bottles. Doing his damndest to ignore the world. Succeeding, for the most part, given her paging of her unit CO for almost an hour now.

"The ghosts, again," Kika comments as she sits down.

"Aff, the ghosts. Always the ghosts."

"Enemies you killed?"

"Friends I didn't save," he replies. "I laugh in the face of the ghosts of enemies slain, for they who are stupid enough to stand against a superior foe, too bad home boy, I'll pass my condolences on to their mommies in due course."

"God you're blitzed." She could tell because Gerald could get rather satirical, but he never attempted to speak half-ass ghetto or make his invective that directly personal as to challenge their families as well as the foe.

"Getting the ghosts drunk with me," Gerald replies straight-faced. "It is amusing, how ghosts end up piled in little heaps when drunk, kinda groaning like they have constipation, kinda moaning like they've been shot once or twice in a fleshy spot. Most of them are rather bitchy even when wasted, some are kinda cool about it. If you ever get cleared for it, I'll tell you about a few of the more amusing ones."

"I'm not sure if I want to hear your spook stories," Kika groans.

"A drink, ace pilot?" Gerald offers her a shot of sake, his drink of choice for the day.

"No, and I think you need to down a cleanup capsule. We've got work coming in from starboard, they'll be announced as a threat in about twenty."

"Unh, can't we tell the pissants to back off? I'm working on a perfectly good buzz here," Gerald grumps.

"Murphy's Law, old man. The enemy will attack on two occasions: when they are ready, when you are not."

"I am definitely not ready, therefore they will attack," Gerald declares sourly. "Get me three capsules and mix them in with orange juice."

"You gotta be shitting me!" Kika half-shouts. "You're going to speed yourself three clean-up capsules? Are you fucking nuts?"

"I avoid fucking nuts or bum-holes whenever possible. The 'one capsule, sealed' stipulation on the packaging is intimidation tactics by the anti-nano tin-foil-hat crowd. I've done five speed-fed through me to clean up a damned-awful BAC that should have killed me, and suffered no ill effect. Now, if you want to do the response to these pukes, best ye be on your way to grab those, I handed mine to a poor Marine a few minutes ago."

"Right," Kika grouses as she heads back downstairs to the bar, collects the cleanups and a tall glass of orange juice, and back upstairs. At the table, she broke the capsules apart and squeezed the almost-gelatinous nanomachines into the glass, where on contact with the orange juice they dissolved into the liquid. "Damn, you were right," she says in a shock as she starts breaking open the other capsules and dumping them in. After she was done, it looked like the orange juice had paled a shade or two, but was still drinkable. "Have at it," she says as she slides the glass over to him.

"Here's to victory," he salutes her with a shotglass of sake, then slams it, then begins chugging the orange juice. Immediately he went bright-eyed, then banged his head off the table a couple times. "Damn these things work fast! From helluva buzz to rip-roaring migraine in very short order! Yeowza!"

"Dude, you sure you're going to be all right doing that?" Kika asks.

"Yeah, yeah, I've done it before many times," Gerald replies casually. "Oh, Gods, this hurts, this hurts like a sum-bitch!" Even still, Kika could tell it was working—and real fast. Gerald had gone from somewhat slurred speech to completely on the level and he was starting to straighten up and breathe easy after three minutes. "The things I do for this fucked-up job," he grumps after a few moments more of resting. "All right, now we head for the bridge."

The Club 300 was a good ten minute walk from the bridge itself, since the club catered to the enlisted personnel on the ship it was nowhere near the bridge and its larger, fancier cousin in the Sniper Bar and Grill. As soon as he walked in: "Conn, Sensors, I show activity to starboard consistent with a fleet headed to the battle site. Possible range differential, enemy may know we're burning hard for the battle ourselves."

"Chief of the Boat, find Century Commander Lightbringer, and kick over whatever rock he's hiding under," Star Admiral Centara orders.

"The rock kicked me over, Star Admiral, so I decided to get back to work," Gerald replies before the Chief even knew he was there.

"Erm, I am not going to ask, I don't think I want to know," Wayne replies.

"Conn, sensors, activity and emissions consistent with Earth Alliance fleet maneuvering, bearing change shows they are angling for us now and not the battle zone."

"Roger that," Wayne replies. "All right, Gerald, I want some ideas."

"I will see to it. Four of us can take these things down with little issue. Use the rest of the fleet to flatten the Earth Alliance before civilians get caught under a nuclear-slaved trigger. We can catch up to the fleet easily enough after the shooting is done."

"Not betting on that?" Wayne asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Not at all," Gerald replies. "They'll put up a good fight any way, it is just a matter of their definition of 'good' versus our definition of 'good'."

"Ah," Wayne mumbles. "Do it. Make sure you keep copious video records of the battle, no sense in being accused by the EA of foul play."

"Will do." After coming to attention, Gerald was out the door and headed for the hangar that his unit was parked in.

"So, how are we doing this, Gerald?" Kika asks.

"Oh, I have a plan, a hellish plan. Call it a field test of a new doctrine of mine, and for the fleet..." Gerald went on to explain his plan, which relied heavily on traditional strengths and disciplines of the Magi, as well as a new implementation thereof.

-x-

"If we can intercept them, we'd be doing the Earth Sphere a favor, erasing their kind from it. Seriously, trying to flee to Mars or beyond..." Chairman Riseman mutters.

Captain Harald Makos snorted quite loudly at the comment from the chairman. He was Blue Cosmos by default, and really did not support their ethos any more than it took to get promotions. If he could get away with being a soldier of a neutral faction, he would be there, but with this war there was no such thing as 'neutral' anymore. The Earth Alliance had hooked or crooked everyone into a war against ZAFT, for no reason other than political expediency and their 'puppeteer' controller's wishes. Practically everyone knew Blue Cosmos was calling the shots now.

"Conn, sensors, four objects detected closing from port, Captain. Estimated time to intercept is two minutes."

"Mobile suits, token defenses or something," Riseman says.

"Unchecked, they are still a threat," Makos replies. "CIC, prepare to launch the 105 Daggers. Intercept at range." If the Captain could sound any more bored, how was lost on his crew.

"Conn, radio, we have something on our radio frequencies. Listen to this;" the ensign on the radio flips it onto the main speakers on the bridge.

"What the hell?" Captain Makos asks nobody in particular, suddenly keenly alerted to the fact that something was severely wrong. Nobody had thus far hacked the Earth Alliance radios, though the lilting, slow strains of a guitar was evidence enough someone had succeeded.

"Conn, sensors, we're being tracked!" Something about the electric guitar in the song made him think that the music was about to shift pace; after a few moments, it became obvious the music of choice was heavy metal with the tripling of pace and distinct shift in the guitar. "They fired! Missiles inbound!"

"They launched right at the opening crescendo?" Riseman asks; nobody paid attention to his bureaucratic bleating at the time.

"Intercept them!"

"They're not aiming for us!" The target of the missiles was the periphery of the fleet, clearly intending to cause damage to or cripple the smaller _Drake_-class ships. They even succeeded, a missile blew the conning tower clean off one of the escorts, leaving it dead in the water for all intents and purposes.

"What—not even a word of defiance!" Riseman half-shouts. "How dishonorable!"

"Enemy units unknown type, estimate ten times larger than a Mobile Suit or more!" the sensors officer shouts.

The haunting strains of the song continued, blaring over all of the Earth Alliance frequency band, even defeating standard Earth Alliance encryption, and at such power there was no way to communicate by overpowering their music. Then the lyrics began in earnest: " '_A force of light; an angel, sent through time to destroy; Avenging the dark ones, descending angelic force_,' " to the sight of anti-warship beam cannons being fired from each of the four units as they broke apart, headed in four different directions.

"Sir! Two _Nelson_-class ships just took severe damage!"

"They're operating independently; we can hammer on them one at a time until we destroy them!" Riseman declares proudly, incorrectly assuming that mass-formation battles were how wars were won in space.

"Only in your dreams, Chairman," Makos replies. "Guns on the large one, missiles on the nearest small one. Fire at will!"

One of the small ones, this one painted with a large '3' with angelic wings around the number, fired a pair of canisters that broke into large missiles; each missile slammed into the ventral surface of a _Drake_ and caused an impressive amount of damage for something so small, easily rivaling the torpedoes on a _Drake_ in terms of net damage to the ship per strike.

Of the return fire, the only notable attack at actually struck one of them was the machine cannon on a _Drake_, and that not enough to actually damage it. One of the Gottfried cannons from the _Thrones_ did strike the large one, but failed to penetrate an anti-beam-weapon barrier around it. "No way! That thing just—it just—"

"What the good God is going on? What are these things? Who are these maniacs?" Riseman asks, for the first time actually knowing what it felt like to fear for his life.

"Jesus, sir! That thing just wiped the floor with a half-dozen Strike Daggers in one stroke!" the Ship's 2-I-C declares.

"No shit!" Captain Makos replies angrily. "Order the fleet to fire only on the nearest of the four to them, using their whole arsenal. Continue moving forward, maybe we can outdistance them."

"What the hell?" one of the sensors officers asks. "What is that?" From the small unit with the markup of a '1' in angel wings, a rocket-propelled chain streaked out, wound its way around two _Nelson_-class ships, in the process passing over the fan-tail of the _Thrones_, and detonated. The damage to the ship was immediate and extensive, as holes as big as a man and deeper than three would be tall had been driven into the ship by whatever had just happened. The damage was much more severe to the ships it encircled, as the nearer of the two began venting fuel from one of the penetrations that was igniting and driving the ship toward earth, the other had taken several hits in the conning tower that killed off that ship as well.

"Sir! Engine damage, thrust down forty percent minimum, maybe more! Attitude control and maneuvering thrusters from the Valiants back have been disabled!"

"Fire Helldarts! Load all tubes with Wombats, fire when target is in range and profile! Valiants, single out enemy two, Gottfrieds, on enemy one in thirty seconds!"

"Sir!" his weapons officer shouts. A quick flurry of key strokes changed the targeting profiles of every weapon on the ship except the Igelstellungs, which went into overdrive as the '2' unit loosed three canisters that fired off literally hundreds of missiles between the three canisters. Despite the efforts of the CIWS, the missiles themselves still ended up hitting the ship in the side, also striking several other ships and, more importantly, caused extreme casualties in the Strike Daggers of the fleet.

"Where's our 105 Daggers?" Riseman asks a moment before the ship shudders to the sound and impact of the catapults deploying the first pair of the said machines.

The next moments themselves were horrific. The 105 Dagger launched from the port side was eliminated barely two lengths outside the catapult, a pair of small violet beams struck the right shoulder and blew down through the waist, disabling the suit and likely killing the pilot. The right unit was killed less than three seconds later as one of the 'smaller' armors flew vertically down through the fleet bubble, passing within a length of six ships at very high speed, with a very large beam saber set at an angle to saber the stray suit. There was little left of the 105 Dagger, just part of one of the arms; the saber itself was large enough to eradicate the rest.

"This...this is impossible!" Chairman Riseman shouts after witnessing the outright destruction of a _Nelson_-class ship by way of six precision beam cannon strikes from the 'larger' armor followed by missiles and large-caliber cannon rounds striking it in the prior hit locations. Internal failure took thirty seconds, but the ship was assuredly dead with several chinks in the armor giving out explosively from the contents of the inside cooking off. "Can't you do a damned thing to stop them, Captain?"

"Did Commander Badgiruel befall this unit? Sensors, do we have a visual on that high-speed colony?"

"Sir, one moment," he replies. "Sir...that's no colony, it's a Warship, it's gotta be a Warship of some damn kind," the Sensors officer replies in clear panic.

The thought of the large ship was interrupted by the horrid sight of one of the smaller units chopping a _Drake_-class Warship into three uneven parts with its beam sabers, moments before it fired another explosive chain mine around a _Drake_ and a _Nelson_, detonating moments thereafter. The _Drake_ involved was toast, its fuel bunker detonating in a hellish radial blast that cleaved the ship in half. The _Nelson_ survived physically intact but nonetheless crippled and half disarmed.

"That's not a Warship, it's a god-damned nightmare," Harald Makos replies, the computer-enhanced image of the ship in the distance clear for them to see...and they would never get to it, given how much damage the whole fleet was taking. "Comms, issue an immediate declaration of surrender and order all ships and Mobile Suits to cease fire immediately. Weps, launch a single white flare every five seconds until acknowledged."

The ultimate irony of the whole battle was the sound of the lyrics of their battle song that was jamming the radio frequencies used by the Earth Alliance. '_To be the thorn in the devils back; To make him weak, the final fight_' struck Captain Makos as prophetic and ironic all at once. They had indeed become the thorn in the Devil's back by taking down over half of an Earth Alliance fleet and denying the whole to the Operation Elvis fleets. The thought of the chorus lyrics 'Descending from Heaven, the Angel sworn to bring them down' only made things clearer: whoever they were, they had clearly intended on crippling or destroying them.

The shooting died out of its own accord fast enough; the four enemy machines ceased fire immediately on seeing the first white flare, the fleet ceased fire after the weps officer fired a cease-fire flare pattern (the latter being a series of three red flares). To their knowledge, the fleet had not significantly damaged any one of the armors. The music faded out before the final chorus could complete. Less than four minutes of battle, and an entire Earth Alliance fleet had been destroyed or demoralized to ineffectiveness.

"Attention Earth Alliance fleet, this is Gerald Lightbringer, commander of the rapid-response unit Angel Team. We acknowledge your surrender in good faith. You put up a good fight for a scratch-up unit with less than effective Warships, excepting the _Archangel_-class ship in your fleet. For this, you should be commended."

"Angel Team, this is Captain Harald Makos of the _Archangel_-class Warship _Thrones_, thank you for the backhand compliment. Your own force deserves the credit of the battle, commander, I have never seen four units of _anything_ so easily disable or destroy Earth Alliance Warships. If I may ask, what unit are you with?"

"Task Force Jokers Wild, an independent unit that serves only the purpose of defending the civilians who would be visited by nuclear death. And we cannot allow a reinforcement fleet to potentially flank our transit path, thus this battle." The implication was clear: they could have disregarded and completely ignored the fleet if it had not been so fast to pursue.

"Understood," Captain Makos replies. "I will surrender myself to you unconditionally. I do not care a bit what you do to me, on the provision that you spare my crew and subordinate ships."

"There will be no executions, Captain, provided you do not stray out of line henceforth. Your fleet will immediately set course for L4 and will be escorted by Angel 2 and Angel 3 to that destination. You will be met by Marines at that location, and will be dealt with at that time. Follow those instructions, and no further harm will come to you, your ships or your crews; disobey those rules, and you will quickly learn why I try to avoid turning Angel 2 and Angel 3 loose on any given formation at the same time. Is this understood?"

"Crystal clear, Commander."

"Mina, Wendy, escort to holding at our camping grounds; once you arrive, have the Marines secure the crews and await further orders. With any luck, by the time you get there, the shooting should be over without more civilian casualties."

"Aff, sir," one of the two replies.

"Aff, Gerald, it shall be done," the other replies; the voices sounded incredibly similar to each other.

"Turned over to you, two and three. Angel One, return to Joker's Hand for refit and refuel."

"Aff, sir, moving now."

"We will speak again in due time, Captain. Stay out of trouble until then," Gerald closes before the largest of the armors turns and leaves the combat area.

-x-x-x-

(26 September CE 71, 2110 hours UTC)

"Star Admiral, Conn, we are now neutralized inertia, ready to cut into tactical engine settings and close up to the melee."

"Time to arrival?" Wayne asks the radio lapel mike he now wore almost permanently.

"Three hours at four minute burn. Looks like the Earth Alliance will beat us to the operations zone by two hours."

"Three hours silent run," Wayne grumps. He wanted to just close on them at full burn, but in so doing he ran the risk of blowing the engines on the _Mjolnr_ and assuredly would overshoot the target zone. "Okay, here's the operational plan," he begins but is cut off by Cagalli:

"Three hours? That's how close we are?" she asks, almost shocked.

In point of fact: "Attention all hands, this is Commander Ward. We expect we will meet battle in three hours. All personnel are to be readied for battle, defensive and offensive, in 60 minutes. At that time we will go to condition 2, and will upgrade to condition 1 in 120 minutes. That is all."

Wayne clears his throat. "The formation is going to sweep through here," and Wayne indicates the sparsely-defended gap between the rearguard ships and the Jachin Due fortress itself. "The _Mjolnr_ will plow through and keep going, coming back on the enemy far flank and trapping them between the two halves of our forces. _Mjolnr_ will be supported by the Aerofighters. The six escort monitors will hit here, on the near-side of the ZAFT formation, giving the mobile suits and mobile armors the best possible anti-shipping arsenal. The Three ships will strike here, the left-rear flank of the Earth Alliance forces, and for that I will assign you Diamond Element, a unit of hard-hitting Mobile Armors, give you better odds against the large amount of Earth Alliance ships in your package."

"Your fighters, are they really going to be enough to defend the _Mjolnr_? It is a _very_ big target," Murrue asks fairly.

"Oh yes, the amount of fighters still in service in the fleet is more than enough to go end-to-end on every military installation in North America and have striking power to spare. The _Mjolnr_ will live to fight another day. It is the next battle or two that I concern over, unless we can force the issue in neutral terms."

"Oh," Murrue replies in kind. "Okay, assuming that we can knock out their fleets, then what? ZAFT's defensive position is still too hard to crack ourselves..." Murrue's sentence trails off when she sees the look from the largest person in the room, and possibly the largest person she had ever seen. That he was a Marine was a no-brainer.

"The whole purpose of the _Mjolnr_ getting this close to Jachin Due is to punch a large hole in the entry / exit locks so we can enter and clear. A Nu Gundam will sweep the facility of Mobile Suits and blow us enough entries to get inside, then the Marines take the place meter by meter by meter until there is no resistance or the enemy has surrendered. Or both." Carlos Michaels was the epitome of the Marines on the _Mjolnr_: deadly serious, no bullshit, a master of his trade and an aggressive one at that. Murrue did not like the rumors she kept hearing of this being an 'assault Marine' formation, though the official rolls did not list it as such. She really didn't like the _Mjolnr_ or its bloody purpose at all, but better the devil without a cause than the demonspawn with their own 'idea' of 'righteousness' that would kill everyone in the Earth Sphere for no apparent gain. _Better the devils without a cause_, she repeats mentally, not realizing that Calamira was looking at her for a reason.

"Conn, Sensors, massive phase-shift energy anomaly detected from area nearby Jachin Due!" the radar room reports over the radios, which Wayne's radio picked up.

"Oh my Gods," Calamira half-shouts. Without any form of pretense, she ripped the lapel microphone from Wayne's shirt and activated it. "Helm, hard left, full combat burn for two minutes, aim towards Saturn and put your foot down!" Before anything was said, the ship began shifting as Willy did exactly as ordered.

"Conn, Sensors! Massive nuclear anomaly detected, far side of Jachin Due! Estimate yield 300 megatons!"

"Conn, Observations, there's a bigass beam of something emanating from the large device on the far side of Jachin Due! Estimate impacting now on the Earth Alliance fleet, closest point of approach 7-5-0-thousand kilometers to starboard!"

"Thanks, Cal, even if we weren't all that close to it," Wayne says. "Helm, Conn, return to base course and reduce to equivalent of four minutes cruising burn. Good reactions, Chief Warrant," he concludes so as to not make it look like Calamira had overstepped her bounds. "You too, Calamira," Wayne adds after killing his radio transmit.

"Conn, Helm, aye," Willy replies immediately. The ship stops accelerating, begins decelerating, and shifted back towards its original heading within thirty seconds, though completely correcting would take as much as three minutes.

"Talk to me, Ai," Wayne orders.

"Analyzing now, thirty seconds," even while said, a holographic projection of the device in question came up over the table that they were plotting the battle on, and even still the device was plotted on the map itself. A separate wall projection showed the beam in transit, and how it chopped through a significant portion of the Earth Alliance fleet, along with analysis of what the beam appeared to kill frame-by-frame.

"Preemptive strike, hoping they would scratch the nuclear assets of the Earth Alliance fleet before they got close enough," Star Commodore Jin Kojima comments as one possible to why ZAFT fired so soon.

"Best guess, sir, this is a focused gamma-ray laser system that turns the uncontrolled chaos of a nuclear weapon into a very large laser. Very large and very irresistible laser," the AI entity tells them after the display concludes.

"An elegant solution to nuclear warfare. ZAFT sure does love their one-upmanship," Gerald grumps sourly. Gerald did not realize that in so saying he had half-way pissed off Lacus, who was not in a good mood regardless since her favorite Haro had gone missing the day prior. Gerald has a sneaking suspicion what happened to said Haro, but was not going to dig on the issue since he really didn't care what happened to it one way or the other.

"This weapon has increased tactical flexibility owing to the fact that it is focused, not a radial nuclear blast like normal," the AI declares in analysis. "It does appear to have one major problem, however," the holosim of the object highlights the small object in front of the barrel of the device. "This mirror cannot be made to withstand repeated blasts, apparently, so it is designed replaceable. My best estimate on turnaround time would be two hours given our technology and training, assuming ZAFT elite troops handling the weapon I estimate three hours minimum, more likely four."

"Mirror is too hot to touch, even with hardened machine claws," Galaxy Commander Rico says almost nonchalantly. "There's our Achilles' heel, boss man, deny them the mirrors and the weapon is not a weapon, it's decoration."

"Actually, I think otherwise," Gerald replies. "Ai, what's the numbers on an unfocused shotgun-style blast? Worst-case it, assuming ZAFT gets so freaking desperate they're willing to kill off their own fleet as well as the EA and us."

"From dead stop, we can probably get the ships out of the way of an unfocused blast, or move far enough away that the weapon won't cause enough damage unfocused to completely kill the ship. The smaller Escort Monitors are more than capable enough to escape the blast, as well as any MS or MA when forewarned. They would do a good job killing their own fleet and the EA, but that is it. Regardless, this gradient shows damage potential, with a damage dropoff due to loss of focus that makes it effectively a non-weapon outside of 150 hexes, and a path width at that range of 320 hexes."

The gradient shown told enough of a tale. An unfocused blast would kill the entire ZAFT and Earth Alliance fleets in one omnicidal stroke, and caught flatfooted would also kill off anything in the Magi fleet under 3,500,000 tons at the expected combat ranges (essentially, everything except the _Mjolnr_ itself). The gradient had been superimposed over their battle plans, which also gave credence to Andrew Waltfeld's comment: "We have to do this fast before the Chairman gets any crazier," he says.

"We have overlooked one thing," Gerald begins. "A weapon like this is great for standoff fire. Ai, numbers on using against Earth Alliance lunar bases, Artemis, and possibly Terra, please." One thing that had captivated the whole of the Three Ships above and beyond the existence of real (and real powerful) AI entities was how Magi always treated them like real people, even if as subordinates.

"This platform can range to Ptolemaeus, but not the other Lunar bases known to us or ZAFT. The weapon has a clear line of sight to Artemis, but at the expected range and total surface area of Artemis versus beam spread, less than 30 percent of the weapon total energy output would reach the Eurasian military station. It is theoretically possible that Artemis may survive such an attack, given its powerful defensive measures. When used against Terra, however, this weapon is literally 'the gun pointed at the head of the world'."

"That sounds pleasant," Captain Ramius says coldly.

The AI continues her briefing: "As a strategic bargaining chip, this weapon is terrifying in potential. In terms of direct striking power, the weapon is overkill if shot at the surface of the planet, literally a hundred times more powerful than what would be needed to kill off anything on the surface that was targeted, given the raw damage potential would not spread more than four times the width of the beam impact cross-section, best case 500 kilometers radius from center of targeted zone. The major problems come in the form of immense amounts of fallout generated by the weapon striking the planet's surface, with possible contamination of a 7500 kilometer radius downwind pattern and at least 2500 kilometers upwind, with rapidly-lethal does at half those ranges."

"What else?" Gerald asks, sensing the AI was holding something back.

"Repeated blasts targeted on the same area have the potential to breach the crust. In as short a time span as 96 hours, assuming maximum fire rate and the political will to do it."

"Oh shit," Galaxy Commander Rico says. "Talk about making the cradle of humanity completely uninhabitable, they do that and it will kill everyone else on planet not already dead from fallout or the direct blasts."

"No shit, Galaxy Commander," Gerald replies sharply.

"All right, I want solutions to completely strip this damnable device out of play."

Strangely, the room was silent for fifteen seconds, as the various officers in the room looked between each other for something resembling support. "Erm, I have an idea, but I cannot discuss it openly."

"Huh?" Wayne asks.

"Orders from the DCT, boss-man. You, me, Calamira only."

"Right," Wayne replies. The Division Commander Techstrikers was the guy who signed the Star Admiral's paychecks, and when necessary, death warrants. An old hand, and a ruthless Durgan soldier as was the Emperor in millennia past, he was on everyone's 'do not fuck with' list, therefore if he said 'certain people only' he meant it. "All right, everyone but the aforementioned, please take fifteen. I'll call ahead and have the Sniper Bar and Grill forewarned you are coming, and to charge it back to my account." Wayne figured if he had to tell them off, he would do so in a generally polite fashion. Free food and coffee helped there. The AI handled that part immediately for Wayne, and informed him it was done.

It was very reluctant on everyone's part, but in less than thirty seconds the three remaining in the room were it, not including the AI entity that naturally heard everything on the ship except telepathic conversations.

"Talk to me, Gerald. What's the big hullabaloo about?"

"There is a NEST team on the ship."

"What the fuck?" Wayne asks immediately and sharply. "Since when have I had a Nuclear Elite Strike Team on this ship? On whose authority? And why wasn't I informed?"

"Hey, chief, not my call. I was ordered by Division Commander Caecilius to keep it quiet unless the team was needed. They're Techstrikers, not full Commandos, so technically they fall under your authority. They've been here one tour longer than I have, and two tours less than Calamira."

"Okay, I'll leave aside the concealing of such information at this time, since it was above you. I take it they are all certified for full deploy?" Wayne asks, meaning that they had the necessary rights and responsibilities to deploy their nuclear payloads.

"Aff," Gerald replies immediately. "Look, I don't like this thought any more than you do, but a 500-megaton antimatter warhead should turn ZAFT's big nuclear squeak-toy into scrap, what parts of it actually survive such a blast. Without their nuclear option and their fleets brought to heel, ZAFT will have little choice but to belly up to the negotiating table, along with the Earth Alliance and the neutral parties. I don't like the thought of using an antimatter bomb to end the war, but we can end it right here and right now if we do this right."

"I concur," Calamira adds. "If you take down all the military options available to them, and present serious threat of eradicating their military infrastructure, they will take clear notice and start playing nice. The alternative for them, we annihilate their military forces, will eradicate their ability to pacify their respective populations, and neither side will do something that stupid."

"Makes sense," Wayne replies. He knew the two sides were a step or two past clinically insane if they thought nuking each other was the only way out, but they still had to retain a small semblance of logic about the matter. If they were undercut by civilian coup aimed at the government, there would be no nuking the other side and there would be no surviving the lynch mobs, a lose-lose scenario. "Ai, your opinion?"

"Concur one hundred percent, Star Admiral. This is the best way out for everyone, when combined with our plan to take their forces down conventionally."

"Very well, summon the NEST team here. We will go over operational concepts and plan an attack. We will keep the _Mjolnr_'s nuclear capability secret for now."

Gerald picked up a growler phone. "The following personnel are to report to the bridge briefing room immediately: Star Colonel Tellos, Star Colonel Gars, Star Colonel Tim Meridias, Star Captain Elena Waterly, Star Captain Nikolai."

"Existence forgive us all," Calamira says reverently. "To end a nuclear war before it gets real messy, we must participate in said war."

"Seyla," Wayne and Gerald reply immediately to Calamira's proclamation.

"Star Admiral, estimate readiness for ZAFT superweapon at five hours, given what is going on in the area of the weapon. We have a two-hour window to bring them down," the AI unit makes note of.

-x-x-x-

(27 September CE 71, 0025 hours UTC)

"I vote we use GENESIS on their moon base, just eradicate it completely," one of Yzak's subordinates declares coldly. "All they are is scum of the Earth, we're better than them and they know it!"

"Yeah!" another of the greenhorns under his command replies.

"Sir? Something wrong?" Shiho asks in the silence. Yzak usually ripped the recruits up one side and down the other for being overtly racist. Yzak himself was a bit of a superiority freak, but he was far smarter than to allow his hatred to cloud his judgment, especially after seeing what one ship and one Mobile Armor had done to three of the best ZAFT Warships and their mobile forces. There were real demons out there, somewhere, and the unit number on the mobile armor, a zero enshrouded by very ornate angel wings, was symbolic of something very nasty, he just knew it.

The hell of it was, his subordinates were right. The Earth Alliance really had become scum of the Earth since the nuclear attack on Boaz. It looked like there was no Earth Alliance any more except in name; all the shots were being called by the terrorists, Blue Cosmos and the like. It was almost disgusting, but far from unexpected. There just was no stopping these terrorists, and GENESIS may be the only solution, as deplorable as it seemed to him. "No, no! I can't think that, damnit!" Yzak rebukes himself loudly. "We are better than they are, we will do better than they have done to us, and we will still win, clear?"

"Understood, sir!" the subordinate that had just made the suggestion replies.

"Erm, Commander Yzak, I have a question," Joule Nine asks in the silence after he gave them the obligatory chewing. The formation was standing by for orders to move in and engage, as a reserve force as well as a final guard to prevent a nuclear attack against the PLANTs. It reduced coverage at the front, but as the chairman had said, if they struck the PLANTs it was all over.

"Ask," Yzak orders curtly. He expected questions, because most of his team had less than four battles to their name they needed to learn and learn fast, and Yzak was a veteran of chasing the damned Legged Ship around Earth, making him a prime instructor.

"Why does it feel like something big and scary is heading right for us?"

"Huh?" If there was one lesson that Yzak had picked up about his subordinates, one of them could 'understand', 'sense', 'feel' his way through problems almost as fast as Yzak could. And he could dodge or deflect shots taken at his sides almost instinctively, never mind facing off against foes directly in front of him.

"I feel it as well," the silent one of Yzak's team says, revealing she had the same talent (hopefully). "Massive presence, thousands of people, and they ain't happy. Somewhere over..." her GuAIZ points towards L4. Coming from that area was a group of ships that somehow, nobody had noticed prior, until the two of them had mentioned it.

"Oh, holy shit," Yzak moans immediately after seeing the dreaded white and very ghastly Mobile Armor, as well as the Warship that had sunk his prior assigned ship _Vesalius_. "Command, Joule Team, Joule One reporting I have contact with the forces encountered outside Mendel, and there is a helluva lot more of them than we initially guessed."

"Joule One, Chairman Zala, I am listening," Patrick Zala replies immediately.

"Chairman, I show two of the _Flame Eater_-class ships, four ships very similar to the _Flame Eaters_, the _Archangel_, the _Eternal_, and an Orb _Izumo_-class ship, arrayed in an oblate hexagonal forward guard formation with something else behind it. I'm maneuvering now to get a better look at the flanks of the formation."

"The renegade ships from Orb," Zala replies. "Get me a total count on their mobile forces, we'll plan on intercepting them in close. And try to get an estimate on that last unit behind the forward screen."

"Command, Joule Six reporting twenty large Mobile Armors are visible at this time, interspersed with the Warships forward and behind them," Shiho says. "Commander Joule is moving laterally to get a depth check and investigate the last ship."

Yzak had moved laterally, technically toward the Earth Alliance lines but still well away from them, all the time keeping an eye on the approaching fleet. It was the work of a minute before he could see a good, clear angle to the ship that was trailing behind. "Oh, good God, I was right. I hate it when I am right. I hate it."

"Sir?" Shiho asks.

"It's big. Very big. Bigger than Jachin Due, definitely bigger than GENESIS." Barely a pause as he changed radio bands. "Command, that last ship is a massive Warship armed to the teeth and apparently set up to be the carrier for the smaller ships as well as a huge gun platform of its own right. Warning, fleet is on a head-long charge for our lines at this time, danger close, estimate four minutes to contact."

"Roger that, Joule One, move to and intercept, we are redirecting other forces to join you at this time. Do not allow them to interpose their ships between Jachin Due and the fleet."

"Honestly, I don't think there is much we can do to stop that," Yzak grumbles. "Joule Team, form up and prepare to intercept unidentified fleet. Shiho, you have second squadron. Try and avoid getting massacred, these guys are at least as good as we are, and their mobile units aren't the pussy weapons the Earth Alliance uses."

"Roger that, Commander," Shiho says. "Sir, our ships are turning towards to engage."

"I get the feeling this is not going to end well," Joule Fifteen (the silent one) says warily.

"Joule Team, move out—" Yzak's last was cut off by the sound of...an electric guitar? "What the hell is this? Can anyone hear me?" he asks on several different frequencies that ZAFT used.

Yzak began to have an even worse sinking feeling than prior. Fighting these crazy mothers with the badass ships was one thing, doing it completely unable to coordinate was guaranteed suicide.

"Sir!" Shiho's CGUE DEEP Arms had drifted extremely close. "Can you hear me?"

"I can now. Give me a moment!" Yzak broke out the keyboard for his machine and tapped out a short-burst tactical text message to the rest of his team requesting they reply immediately. He received replies within ten seconds from each. He then text-messaged that they coordinate with the messages, and to move out. As the nature of the song kicked in, the sound of the really heavy metal he almost expected, the ZAFT warships opened fire on the approaching fleet; one of the beams even struck the approaching ships on the nose, causing no notable damage to it and certainly not sinking it.

"For what we are about to receive..." Shiho mutters as the enemy ships return fire with a totally different collection of weapon types, of beam, ballistic and even missile weapons, all to the sound of metal lyrics that ran chills up and down Yzak's spine, especially when he remembered someone in that fleet had a reverence for rather violent angels.

" 'A force of light, an angel,' my ass," Yzak mutters over the continuing song while typing out a tactical message to his team. He did have to admit it was a catchy song, though, and not all that discordant with the battle.

-x-

"In position," the Flight Controller declares.

"Enemy laser designators detected by all six Monitors, sir," the Sensors controller declares. "Power spikes, they're firing!"

The beam cannons fired at the fleet mostly missed, belying ZAFT's uneven gunnery skills. One shot hit, however: "_Montgomery_ took a hit, port forward. Minor damage, no critical. Continuing mission."

"All ships return fire, Flight control launch remaining Mobile Armors," Wayne orders as the song starts into the first verses. The ship shuddered slightly as the first of the Mobile Armors were deployed to the truly haunting lyrics of the first band Wayne had ever considered a real match for Nightwish. " 'Descending angelic force' we may be," Wayne mutters to himself, repeating the lyrics of the last verse aired as the Dendrobium units surge forward, the first line of defense in any Magi fleet action. "89 Mobile Armors...out of 200," Wayne spat his contempt for the Mobile Dolls that had cursed him to this location and battle.

"All elements, all Mobile Armor elements launch immediately. Diamond Element to assist the Three Ships in taking down the Earth Alliance, all other elements are to attack ZAFT forces. Acknowledge my last," the Flight Boss orders.

"Spade acknowledges."

"Diamond copies."

"Club is in."

"Hearts hears that."

"Red Element copies your last."

"Black Element is in."

"Gambler is ready."

"Dice is rollin' out now."

Wayne could see the hesitation in the enemy ranks on both sides as the remaining Mobile Armors launched from the _Mjolnr_. Wayne was deliberately holding two classes of assets back (three, if a commander differentiated between Gundams and Mobile Suits), giving his ship the potential for excellent mobile reinforcement if things got too hot out and about when he pulled the stunts he was about to pull. After starting with potentially two full (small) galaxies of fighters, he now had barely one and a few leftovers, but the striking power of one galaxy of Fighters was still insanely high, and, when needed, he would deliver that message to them.

"Sir, enemy forces are picking up fire volume," Sensors reports.

"Break it up, execute go-code Alpha," Wayne orders. A 'Go-Code' was a command to begin a certain plan or phase of a plan, allowing for flexibility on the part of the operation pace and as necessary backup plans. Wayne had six Go-Codes established for this operation, the sixth being a fallback plan in case something went horridly wrong. There would be little chance of that, but preparedness had saved many a Magi fleet from annihilation in the end and Wayne did not intend that to change.

"All forces, go-code Alpha, execute, execute, execute."

Things began moving with a heightened pace as the lyrics '_The Hunter, the thunder, the wrath of Heaven's coming down_' echoed through the first chorus. Already the disorganization of losing radio communications was showing in the whole enemy action, as some of the forces had disengaged and pulled back from each other, and others were fighting wildly, blindly, missing opportunities to exploit mistakes in the enemy forces. The confusion only became worse as the Magi formation broke up, the Monitors headed pretty much straight in for the ZAFT lines with the bulk of the Mobile Armors, the Three Ships and a separate unit of Mobile Armors headed into the Earth Alliance forces.

"Our turn, Commander Ward," Wayne orders.

"Helm, Conn, break left and apply reverse thrusters. Take us down causeway Bravo, don't scrape the ship's side on Jachin Due, clear?" Commander Ward relays to Willy after reviewing the potential movement plans in the holoprojector. "Sensors, Conn, are we losing sensor effectiveness?"

"Some, we've still got enough power to burn through the N-Jammers," the Sensors Controller orders.

"Conn, Engineering, we're losing engine power at the rate of a half-percent per hex approach to the battle," the Captain of Engineering says unbidden.

"Freaking great. Estimate max power loss and compensate for it," Commander Ward replies crassly.

"Sir, dual-stage fusion engines, we could lose half our engine power and still have more power than we did prior to the upgrade," the Captain of Engineering replies.

"Conn, Helm, I am in causeway bravo, estimate one minute to point Alpha," Willy says.

"Helm, Conn, aye," Commander Ward replies. "Weapons, Conn, do you have solutions?"

"Aff, Commander, solutions up and down the sides with capital weapons at long range. Permission to deploy?"

Commander ward looks to the Star Admiral, who in turn nods. "Fire at will," he orders after a moment.

Whereas the catapults for the Mobile Armors had caused the ship to shudder somewhat, the bark of tens of naval particle cannons and launch of scores of missiles from the ship caused just as violent a shaking across the ship. The _Mjolnr_ did have side-mounted autocannons, but said guns were of a shorter accurate range bracket than the lasers and missiles and did not yet fire. The entire front weapons arc itself was silent, as driving between the rear of the ZAFT fleet and the front of Jachin Due did not thus far present any targets, likewise for the rear arc and most of the left side.

Some of the missiles were Teleoperated missiles, meaning the gunners for those weapons were to play a hellish game of 'demolition derby' with the missiles by crashing them into the enemy ships. Bets were always on between missile batteries as to who could drive a missile into the bridge of an enemy Warship, if it had an exposed bridge. Even the standard-class launchers, particularly the multi-purpose AR-10 launchers, were themselves in on the action, their self-guiding missiles targeted on the individual Mobile Suits to bring down the possible major threat to the Mobile Armors.

Star Admiral Centara watched the sensor plots as the first waves of missiles went outbound, some aimed at Mobile Suits, others aimed at the ships. The returns became clouded as the missiles detonated, in many cases throwing chunks of the targets in multiple directions that began generating false returns for the sensor teams to sort through. The damage to the ships would be no worse, most likely less than the damage from the Naval Particle Cannons and Naval Lasers the ship used in profusion, but the sight of the massive capital-grade missiles bearing down on the ships and Mobile Suits itself would be a pure morale crusher.

Forward of the ship, an intrepid _Laurasia_-class had decided it wanted to try and stop the far larger _Phalanx_-class charging it down, leading to the response from the _Mjolnr_ of the six heavy Naval PPCs and four heavy Naval Gauss Rifles, as batteries of lasers aimed in different directions to fire on either the Jachin Due fortress itself or other ships not directly challenging the _Mjolnr_. Approaching formations of Mobile Suits triggered the point-defense grid on the _Mjolnr_, the longest-range weapons being the eponymous ER Large Laser installed expressly as an anti-fighter and anti-MS armament.

As the distance closed between the _Mjolnr_ and the mobile forces, more of the dreaded anti-fighter armaments came into play, primarily the vast arrays of Large Pulse Lasers, four lasers to a bay, over a dozen bays total. Gauss Rifles and Streak Long Range Missiles (2) also struck out to long range, with Medium Pulse Lasers and 105mm Rotary Autocannons for close-in defense. The arsenal for anti-fighter defense itself was unlike anything else in the present earth sphere, in the employ of any force, yet surely they knew of Magi anti-fighter capability due to their battle with the _Absinthe_?

The Star Admiral had to remind himself that ZAFT eagerness to close with the ship was based on the sad belief that taking down a warship was easy for a Mobile Suit. Nothing at all could be farther from the truth when discussing Magi warships.

-x-

"Sir, this—this can't be right!" Joule Eleven half-shouts, having drifted close enough that her radio bled over the music. "Can't they see we're the ones being attacked?"

"I don't think they care," Yzak replies stolidly. He types out a tactical flash for all forces to spread out and attack in pairs. Given that he was probably ZAFT's most senior pilot remaining in service nowadays, with the possible exception of Commander Le Creuset (whom he did not trust any more for some reason), a lot of the mobile forces took heed of his advice.

"Oh shit, no way, they just launched another sixty—seventy of those massive things—and a lot of those are huge!"

"Wait a second—is that some kind of massive mobile armor or is that a ship?" Shiho asks in clear dismay.

"Spread out, now!" Yzak orders to his entire team, since the Mobile Armors and the smaller Warships were changing vector practically straight for his team and the flank of the ZAFT teams.

The fire coming from the enemy Warships only became more intense as the range gap closed, until all at once the unrecognized Warship headed practically straight for Yzak's team let loose with its whole forward-facing capital arsenal in one swift stroke. Crimson lasers, the azure streaks of some before-unseen energy weapon combined with the sight of _tracers_ in capital-scale machine cannon volleys and the characteristic swirl-groove pattern of magnetic slugs passed by his Gundam, clearly aimed through his team's formation and at the Warships behind.

Never had Yzak seen such a frightening sight as a heavy-gun destroyer take down two _Laurasia_-class ships in one volley. Seeing it firsthand, as one began drifting helplessly as the other started spinning along its yaw axis due to venting fuel bunkers, was immensely terrifying to the veteran of repeated battles with the _Archangel_. The _Archangel_ had only ever struck down two ships of ZAFT, one submarine on the surface and one of Waltfeld's land battleships, and this ship in one stroke had outdid it.

Yzak noticed that already three of his team had fallen way back, apparently not intent on remaining close to the advancing wall of Mobile Armor and ships. For good reason, as far as he could tell: as he had watched one ship spin and another become hopelessly crippled, the Mobile Armors had opened fire themselves on the MS forces and in a few cases against the ZAFT warships. As he refocused he found himself cringing as a wall of missiles from a mobile armor larger than the Moebius units coming in for his formation; those aimed at himself he was able to intercept with vulcans, but the missiles were just a precursor to the actual units.

One enemy unit in particular forced the issue on Yzak, a massive machine that looked like a triangular-shaped hunk of metal with two large, spindly claws coming from its base. A beam missed close to his left, though the pilot of the Mobile Armor closing rapidly on him seemed less concerned with hitting him than herding the Duel...somewhere? Yzak shifted toward the line of fire instead of away, coming up with a split-second plan at the last moment to attempt to saber the enemy machine even as he returned fire with the Shiva railgun on his machine. A last shot was fired at close range, this one did not miss and Yzak blocked most of it with his shield as the armor passed underneath him just barely. An outstretched hand locked onto the eye slit and dragged him along for the ride as the enemy machine accelerated, faster and faster. It was a serious strain on his machine to pull loose a beam saber and drive it into the top of the enemy armor, only to find that the armor on the enemy machine resisted the beam for almost ten seconds, a ten-second interval that gripped at Yzak's heart in dread that they were resistant or immune to beam weapons. Whence it finally cooked through the armor and into vital components, Yzak breathed easy as almost immediately the engines cut out and the armor shook violently from an ammunition explosion inside the craft, then nothing more as it began a lazy roll and yaw that made no sense if it was still piloted.

"Got one!" Yzak half-shouts, now glad he had the proof that the enemy was not indestructible. "Who's next?"

_I shall be_, a voice of a lady tells his mind directly. Yzak turned his machine to face where he thought he heard the voice from, and indeed there was another enemy unit gunning for him. This unit, also a mobile armor about three times larger than his Mobile Suit, had the shape of some old hat from Earth he had seen in history books long ago, with a pair of big-ass engines strapped onto the bottom of it. And a pair of warship-grade beam cannons to make it an actual weapon platform.

"And here's for the try!" Yzak half-shouts before firing a beam at her. The hell of it was, he thought he had her defeated in one stroke, but just before he snapped the trigger, her armor moved aside and the beam missed wide to port of the target. "What the fuck?"

He saw the glow of something launching from the rear of the armor, several somethings, but the darkness of space and several battles in his area made visually tracking them impossible. Until the fire started coming in. Yzak dodged one, two, blocked a third, fourth, but his luck ran out in less than a second with the strike of four beams on his machine: left leg, left hip, right arm (severing it in the process), and the rear lower torso, just next to the cockpit. Two seconds later his Gundam was struck again, this time blowing the shoulder weapons and armor apart as well as several upper torso hits that knocked out his ability to fight at all.

It was not long before the rest of his team messaged him with the same problem: their units were heavily damaged and some of them had been outright killed by the enemy. "One god-damned Mobile Armor took out a whole team? This is insane!"

_Insane is believing you can win a nuclear war, pilot. This? This is just battle_.

"What the hell is this? How can you talk to my mind?" Yzak asks, though it did not go out on the radio.

_Humanity has no pinnacle, much as you are wont to believe otherwise. Many simply have different traits and skills compared to others, and mine is the ability to read minds and sense attackers. I will leave you to wallow in that truth for now_. Yzak could clearly see the collection of remote weapons draw back into the armor, and it was off toward the Warships.

Given he was defeated but not dead, Yzak simply watched the progressing battle as the smaller Warships moved past the defeated Joule Team, and in the distance he watched the large Warship (identified as _Mjolnr_, Thor's hammer as Yzak knew of old mythology) begin a turn toward Jachin Due.

"Still alive, sir?" Shiho asks by radio, her DEEP Arms unit having lost both arms, a leg, a head, and most of its upper torso to weapons fire.

"I am. Lucky, but now there is no stopping them," Yzak grumbles. "Who the fuck are they?"

"I don't know, Commander, but we'll find out soon enough," Shiho replies.

-x-

"Beginning the combat turn at point Alpha," Willy informs Commander Ward as the ship begins rotating while still headed in the general direction of the enemy nuclear laser. "Sir, shall I deploy Rail Guns?"

"Just one," Commander Ward replies. Since the Heavy Naval Rail Guns were themselves a fixed weapon, they had to be aimed by aiming the whole ship at the target. "Fire on valid solution, target the lower MS access bunker door." The guns had been armed prior to the commencement of shooting, given they knew this was going to be done.

"Standing by, almost rotated to point," Willy says. "Firing, three, two, one, NOW!" The port-side Naval Rail Gun fired its first shot in anger in over two millennia, deploying a 5-ton ultra-dense long-rod penetrator on a perfect ballistic arc right into the lower bunker door to Jachin Due. After a ten-second flight time the slug struck and blew through the concrete portal, caving the whole door structure in and causing a ripple-stress fracturing of the rock in every direction from the door. With just one shot, the way into Jachin Due was open.

"Go-code Bravo, launch Marines, launch Mobile Suits, go go go!" the Flight Boss orders immediately after seeing the lower gate blown through. In the moments thereafter the ship shuddered to the impacts of catapults launching the transport shuttles of Marines, which would be the Astral Chinook Landing Craft. Each LC carried a full star of Marines in speed and relative comfort, though in terms of defense they were only average and lacked any serious weapons beyond a pair of medium lasers, hardly a threat to a unit of Mobile Suits.

As the ship continued to drift toward GENESIS, the rear of the ship got into shooting at the backs of the ZAFT fleet while the _Mjolnr_ rotated. Even facing completely away from the ZAFT ships, there was no denying the awesome striking power of the _Mjolnr_ and its crew, especially in the art of intercepting enemy fighters and mobile suits.

"You do realize we just effectively 'mooned' the enemies, right?" Commander Ward asks the Star Admiral with a bit of grim humor to tone.

"Oh yes, and—" watching the rear camera, a previously damaged enemy ship was finished off by two bays worth of Naval Particle Cannons. "Scoring impressive amount of kills even while doing something as crazy as that. They will learn to fear even the ass of our ship!" Wayne says with just the right evil intonation to cause those around him to either giggle maniacally or laugh hysterically. "Conn, damage report," Wayne orders.

"Sir, less than 2 percent damage total to ship's hull. We can do this several times without hazard of blow-through," Commander Ward replies. "You know what it takes to bring one of these ships down, boss, a lot more guns than ZAFT has." In point of fact, the Negaverse called the _Phalanx_-class ships 'old ironsides', in respect to their age and how much punishment one ship could take. When the weakest part of the ship's armor (the rear armor) required a **hundred** shots from the largest Naval Gauss Rifles or a **thousand** shots from a high-power beam rifle to defeat, and the front of the ship carried half more armor than the rear, killing a _Phalanx_-class ship took a very large effort. On the other hand, Negaverse Warships had that kind of firepower in spades.

"Amazing," Calamira replies. "The great strength of the Magi, the defense, is the undoing of ZAFT."

"Explain how, if you will." Wayne wanted to hear her logic on the battle.

"The only way ZAFT can stop us is by focusing solely on us, ignoring everything else including our Monitors and Mobile Armors. They can't do that, or they would get shot up by the Earth Alliance and our forces. Lose-lose."

Wayne was silent for a moment. "I take it you didn't intend that," Commander Ward notes.

"Not at all," Wayne replies. "I was just planning on hitting them fast and plowing through, nothing much else. This may make things harder on me at the negotiating table, if they feel they could not have won they may continue to see us as far too powerful to trust."

"That could be a problem," Calamira replies.

"Command, arriving at point Charlie in ten seconds," Willy declares from the helm station.

"Roger that, prepare to stomp on it and slow the ship down," Commander Ward warns the Helmsman.

"Give me a full stoppie, Willie," Star Admiral Centara orders.

At point Charlie, the _Mjolnr_ applied maximum combat thrust on the engines, with an ETA of 3 minutes 20 seconds to completely neutralize their momentum, and oh, by the way, such a deceleration perfectly aligned the ship with the reserve mirrors for the ZAFT superweapon that were even now being pushed into place. "Conn, Helm, we are at a dead stop, sir."

"Conn, Sensors, replacement mirror 80 percent aligned for next shot," the sensors controller declares.

"Flight Control, launch _Dominion_ under go-Code Whiskey," Wayne says. "Commander Ward, you have the Conn. I am heading out to assist the _Dominion_."

"Aff, Star Admiral, I have the Conn. Flight Control, have the Star Admiral's Gundam preflighted and waiting hot for him."

-x-x-x-

(27 September CE 71, 0035 hours UTC)

"Big sucker," Elisa notes, referring to the space fortress that ZAFT had carved out of an asteroid and put in a final defensive position around the PLANTs.

"Well, next time our chauffeur needs to launch us sooner so we don't have a huge-ass approach march," the pilot replies sourly.

"Oh, well," Elisa grumps. "At least the enemy fire is minimal."

"That is a bonus," the co-pilot replies. What fortress guns were still active after the _Mjolnr_ passed by were being seen to by the Mobile Suits and Mobile Armors. Though reasonably capable of intercepting Mobile Suits, the guns could not stop the Mobile Armors that had I-Fields to defend themselves with, making the battle extremely one-sided. And a unit such as a Big Zam carried enough weapons to cause extreme amounts of damage to a piece of rock in one salvo.

"Take her in," Elisa requests before turning to head back into the crew compartment. "All right everyone, listen up!" Elisa orders roughly, which brought the humored banter among the other 24 Marines to silence in their landing craft.

"Ma'am!" one of the other Marines replies, one not in her Point. Her promotion to Elite Specialist had been iconic of the changing face of the _Mjolnr_ and the crew, lending her a bit of respect from the rest of the Marines.

"This is the real deal, people. Most of us have seen combat in one way or another, Trial by Combat or pirate raiding, but this time around we have to act fast and take the controls for that superweapon or they cook the people on the planet below for dinner. This objective is strategic; you are not allowed to give them a break. Send 'em to hell unless they surrender."

"Aff, ma'am!" the whole shuttle choruses in reply.

"One minute!" the pilot shouts into the crew compartment.

"Hey, check out the Nu Gundam! Viewport 1 right now!" Immediately, the Marines brought up the camera retransmit viewports attached to the landing craft, and sure enough one of the exceedingly rare Nu Gundam machines had blazed a trail into the interior of Jachin Due over the deceased remnants of dozens of enemy mobile suits. Inside the fortress, the killing streak continued unabated, the fin funnels dancing back and forth to intercept MS and heavy concentrations of Infantry as the Gundam itself blew open several access hatches into the interior of the base for the oncoming Marines.

"Thirty seconds!" the Copilot shouts.

"Draw beam sabers!" Helga shouts thereafter. Each Marine reached down between their legs to the bench they were seated on, where four infantry-scale Beam Sabers were waiting for them. Most Marines carried hard-points for two, some of those who preferred close-quarters battle had four or more hardpoints for the favored close-quarters weapon. Each Marine had to draw his or her sabers at the last minute, as their armor could not power the sabers, therefore the weapons charged from the engine of the transport until deploy time. A few carried the traditional sword of the Magi, the short-blade Gladius, and even more carried more exotic close-range weapons such as Pilebunkers, katana, or a flail.

"Lock and load!" Elisa shouts. A cacophony of firearm bolts, belts, motors for 10mm gattlings, missile arming pins, and the sinister sound of lasers pre-charging echoed throughout the craft. The last sounds heard were that of the two Ion Cannons in the unit charging up and Elisa drawing the bolt back on her Armor Sniper Rifle. "Fifteen seconds!"

" 'Cut me free, bleed with me, oh no,' " One of the Marines from Third Point chants from the ancient and time-honored song _Tenth Man Down_.

" 'One by one, we will fall, down, down,' " the rest of the cabin chants back, including Elisa. Some things were tradition beyond even which she would not walk away. Reciting lines of the Remebrance relevant to the unit or lines of songs were favored, in this case lines of a song.

The whole craft jolts once, twice, then the buzzer above the door begins blaring as the red light glows. In less than three full breaths, the door slides open and the light turns green.

"It's enter and clear!" Helga shouts as she bolts to standing, her shield set forward as she charged through the door, the rest of her point in line immediately behind her.

The first entry was mercifully clear, on the premise that it had been vented to space and the two guards that had been posted in there had died of exposure suffocation. They moved up to the first door that had sealed and came to a halt. "Verify gas seal in the hallway," Helga requests.

"Verified, the landing craft has good seal."

"Close it up behind us," Elisa orders. Behind her, the breaching collar sealed shut and ejected from the craft, loosing the transport to return to the ship and if necessary pick up another star of Marines. "Helga, breach this door."

"With pleasure, boss lady," Helga draws two of her beam sabers, lights them off, and stabs into the safety door high up. With a little bit of sawing action, she dragged the two beam swords downward to the ground, while Victoria used a saber up high to cut from her vertical cut on the left to the vertical slash on the right. Lastly, Helga brought her two beam sabers together at the bottom to complete cutting two meters of the door out in a rectangular formation. The remnant she shoved through with her shield, the severed plates clattering off the left wall as a full star of Marines (25) marched into Jachin Due.

"Knock knock," Victoria says mirthlessly, looking past her shield at a half-dozen ZAFT personnel armed with assault rifles and submachineguns.

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

Oh holy crap, this took a lot more than I thought it did.

I'm not going to say much in this afterword, as you can sense the battle coming along. More of that to come, for damn sure, as things get very bloody before they get better. All forms of battle will be explored ore in depth in the next chapter, from the Marines in Jachin Due all the way to the ship-to-ship combat outside. It will be messy, convoluted, maybe even confused. Stay tuned.

For those of you who have been asking why the Magi place so much emphasis on psychological warfare, the Logic and Reason section below will give you an idea as well as some historical lessons on the matter. Many of you have asked about the Mjolnr, what its core stats are and how it is armed, look no further than the TRO section which includes a brief history of the ship and a lot of note on how it is used by the Magi. Fear, fear like you have never done so before.

Let these stand as proof that there is a lot of history to the Magi, of the kind of twisted, gritty, cold, hard reality that would chew up Harry Potter and Star Trek and spit them out in pieces. Seriously, wizards hiding in plain sight from non-magic-users? Aliens decided to give humans a major boost in damn near everything just because they look like they were up and coming? Bullshit, I say, the Magi clawed their way out of leftover nazi fascism, taught themselves common wizardry, went to the stars on pure balls (and boobs as necessary), fought the Gods to a standstill, beat the hell out of four other Star Empires for millennia, and still find time for their own pursuits and purposes. The only thing the Magi have been given over the years is ration after ration after ration of shit, and they aren't impressed by neighborhood bullies with nukes, self-righteous 'evolved' purists clinging to fragile and under-defended colonies, or competently indecisive atoll 'countries' whose claim to fame goes no father than their borders and their untenable ideals. It is time for the Earth Sphere to get the obligatory wake-up call and chug the necessary ration of coffee, because the Universe itself is only open to those who have the balls (boobs), brains and willpower to step out of the cradle and get on with it!

(You can tell I believe in equal opportunity for the ladies, no? Sorry for the rant, just felt like doing that after writing all this out!)

Next Chapter: ZAFT, the Earth Alliance, and even the remnants of Orb learn and learn fast why the Magi won the Star Empire Wars, and learn why Magi won't stand around and watch people nuke each other. After the shooting and the scare-downs are done, the silent battlefield demonstrates why genocide is a bad idea. There will be much blood and battle ahead.

* * *

Review Replies: Multiple reviews from my last chapter, thank you one and all for the continuing ideas and motivation! W00t!

**FraserMage**: I think I will have to accentuate the Astray being the best of the Mass Pro units in the series, but I will also be accentuating the pilots as well. A good pilot in a lesser machine is still a very potent force in a battle, especially one as chaotic as this.

**Rickroller**: Much thank you for the review, good to see I am doing well here. Wait a second...does this mean I just got Rick Roll'd? Whoa, full stop.

**One-Village-Idiot**: Your vote is heard and actually agreed with. I liked the Astray series as much, if not more than SEED itself. I hope the intro section with Serpent Tail covers what you wanted to see...

**Gatomon41**: I'll be working on getting the main SEED characters some action, if not in this next chapter then definitely in the next few chapters. They will be critical after the war, as you can guess. Azrael will have a rather bizarre fate, nothing like how he died in the first Jokers Wild build. I have something special for him to come.

**Etienne Of The West Wind**: The shipboard movement was the move to start differentiating themselves as descended of the Magi but not completely Magi. Some of the crew see a lot more writing on the wall than the others... And, of course, I have an obligation to kill off as many of Lacus' Haro collection as possible. One small step for UC Haro, one giant annoyance crushed for mankind...

**Knightowl 4183**: What you are referring to is the same thing a modern howitzer artillery piece does: Fired flat, the shell moves flat, fired angled, the shell arcs. Howitzers replace bombards and carronades with a single do-all artillery piece. Linear Artillery may resemble a carronade in how it fires, but remember that if Earth Alliance doctrine wasn't so slapshod it would make an astounding artillery weapon.

* * *

The Gripe Sheet: No gripes, no problem!

Actually, I owe an extended shout-out this chapter. Due to a communication error on my part, I ended up with two betas this time around: **Strata-Assassin**, who is her own very accomplished author, and returning savior **Necroblade**. Thank you both for saving my can on grammar and spelling and logic!

* * *

Footnotes:

(1): **A**rmor **P**iercing **F**in-**S**tabilized **D**iscarding **S**abot, also called Long-Rod Penetrators. These are the main anti-tank rounds used by Main Battle Tanks and Infantry Fighting Vehicles, easily capable of defeating a lot of armor with a very small but dense high-speed rod.

(2): Streak Long Range Missiles are designed to not fire unless guaranteed to hit. This prevents wasting ammo and generating heat without result.

* * *

Logic and Reason: Psychological Warfare and Scare tactics

"_All of warfare is two components: Physical and Mental. The physical side I do not have to explain to you ladies and gentlemen, you have been training at it for over a year now. The mental aspect is my dominion, and soon shall it be your dominion as well. Listen well and heed my words, for when the enemy does not fear you, fear your existence and actions, you will have to fight twice harder to achieve the same goals, and fight twice more frequently to stave the enemy onslaught._"

--Exerpt from Psychological Warfare Introduction Speech, Academy of Military Sciences, Kathil 010

Magi forces traditionally have viewed the mental aspects of war as equally critical as the physical aspects, sometimes more important than the physical considerations. Common wisdom holds that breaking the morale of an enemy is easier than breaking their bodies (or weapons or ships), therefore the pursuit of a mental campaign of combat is just as important to victory as is the blade, the firearm or the mechanized units. Though all six Star Empires practice psychological warfare, the most thorough and generally accepted to be effective in this arena are the Magi.

Magi forces break psychological warfare down into six components: Reputation, Classification, Presence, Willpower, Distraction, Deception. These are modified by the three principles of Equipment, Morale, and Purpose.

**Reputation**: "We've been beating your ass for thousands of years, boy, what makes you think that's going to change?"

Reputation comes into play in several levels. Foremost is the reputation of the forces Empire-wide, whereby any unit carries with it the baggage of the forerunners and comrades they serve with, and this can be a powerful motivator in and of itself. Simply stated, the exploits of the Touman semi-translate to the sub-units, and for persons having been defeated by an Empire once to face those forces again lends a bit of fear to their actions and mindset. Not far behind in effect is the reputation of individual formations, of which the foes of an Empire will pay close attention to which units are more effective and take note. The exploits of Galaxies in the Magi Empire, just as one example, taking planet after planet after planet of the other Empires with suffering hardly a defeat or none at all presents an effect that a force commander will bid said Galaxy to take a planet and the defenders will surrender outright, eschewing the inevitable destruction for just walking into the stockade alive. Lastly, and less frequently seen, is the reputation of Aces, the best of the best of the Empires and the smaller governments or organizations. Despite the rarity of such stunning aces as Char Aznable, Anavel Gato, Kamille Bidan, Garrod Ran, Kira Yamato, Heero Yuy, and innumerable names from the Star Empires, or more likely due to such rarities, even the name of an ace invoked in a battle can change the tide of the conflict drastically. The fear of going up against the best of the best is itself a raw weapon, one exploited many times throughout antiquity by the Star Empires, and even in some cases it was true, making the defeat even more complete and demoralizing.

**Classification**: "Never take a pair of scout tanks to a Battlemech fight. Conversely, never take a Battlemech to a Warship fight. And get the fuck out of there if someone says something about a mage and you're not capable of defending yourself against such attacks."

Classification refers to the different types and correlations of units in combat in a given battle, and how they can affect 'that sinking feeling' the opposing sides feel about each other. One of the major deciding factors of a battle among the Star Empires is not necessarily the numbers of troops, but the types of troops and where they are used. With so many different force types in operation at any given time, choosing where and when to use assets is likely the most crucial aspect of campaigns, as one blatant screwup can literally destroy a campaign outright. As the old saying goes, there is a time and a place for everything, and warfare is no exception, such as the place for infantry not being wide open fields at the time of an enemy Battlemech advance through that area. Conversely, it is not the time nor the place for Battlemechs to storm a garrisoned city full of close-range tanks and battle armor infantry hiding in the buildings. Magi in particular are infamous for being one of the best, if not the best, in using the right men and machines for the right job at the right time. Open-field battle? Battlemechs with Aerofighter and artillery support, follow-on infantry and armor to mop up the fleeing few. City invasion? Infantry and urban assault tanks, with helicopter support. The list goes on.

Using the right units for the job—or, technically speaking, using better units than the enemy for the job—can have extreme effects on the morale of the two sides in battle. In a forest engagement of tanks and infantry against Battlemechs and infantry, the force with the Battlemechs and Infantry will generally have the psychological advantage unless the enemy outnumbers them or has higher-quality armor than the enemy has high-quality Mech forces. Support forces such as air support, artillery, transport, and naval forces all correlate into the battle as well, provided one or both sides are intelligent enough to use them. Done properly, a significant show of tactics and force can break the morale of an enemy down in a huge hurry, as well as force outright surrender if the enemy is caught in a position they cannot retreat from.

**Presence**: "I don't know where the fuck they are, General! They're everywhere! They're nowhere! They're all around us! They ain't in this sector! We're getting slaughtered, we need backup NOW! Now Godda—" _fzzzzsssst_.

Where one stands, where one does not stand, and where one makes the enemy think they do and do not stand is the presence that one shows. Commonly called maneuver warfare, presence is the way that armies can corner each other, force and deny options, and even scare the enemy into taking illogical or self-destructive actions. Heavily commented and thoroughly described by Sun Tzu long before the inception of any modern government or Empire, it is a staple of the Star Empires and their conflicts. With the adoption of Clan practices and traditions maneuver lost some focus in strategy, but was quickly revived during the Star Empire Wars as the Negaverse in particular turned out to be easily panicked by their shadow when they thought the Magi were moving in non-direct ways, positioning for possible ambushes and to sever supply lines. In more than a few cases, the Magi were able to steamroll the core of an enemy formation by faking movements, feinting an attack in one direction and playing complacent in another, drawing the enemy sideways and then striking through the middle of their formation with them facing the wrong direction. Less than a century into the war, the Negaverse had to pull in their surviving few competent commanders to begin retraining the rest of their command staff to recognize Magi maneuvering for what it was. This changed the pace of the war to something more manageable for the Negaverse, though even with establishing high-power academies to train their troops, the Negaverse was never able to fully overcome the deceptive practices of the Magi. Some are wont to say that in the calm interim after the wars, the Negaverse have become the masters of maneuver, though this is hotly debated by every military analyst this side of Podunk.

**Willpower**: "Only by sheer force of steel balls—or steel boobs in the case of you ladies—can anything meaningful be won. If it is an easy victory, it is an ambush masquerading as a cake-walk."

In the barracks, sharp banter and hearty boast are the order of the day, but out in the field, with lasers and missiles flying in both directions, willpower is the force that carries the battle forward. Though some would say that willpower is the last ten percent that a troop has to give, it is more appropriately classified as the 'all' that a soldier gives for his comrades and his country. An amalgam of discipline and morale, willpower is the drive a force is willing to apply to their purpose to achieve the objectives. The reason to will to do battle varies between the Empires and independent states, though for Magi the answer is dead simple: Magi fight for everything. Raised from young to be independent and free-willed on every matter, guaranteed a wide margin of latitude by the Empire, the average Multimage citizen cannot stomach the feudalistic ways of the Negaverse, the lesbian monarchy of the Illyaris, the drunken excessive bureaucracy of the Dark Moon, the outright dictatorial tyranny of the Dynasty, the list goes on. Faced with losing everything they have known to outsiders they could never approve of, the Magi fight long and hard for every meter of ground and space they can, giving in only as an affair of honor dictates, and that rare enough. This sense of purpose, the knowledge that millions more rely on each soldier to do his or her part, drives and disciplines the massive army of the Magi through the worst of conflicts, honor their purpose, and force the enemy into realizing the faults of their ways. Strangely, this also applies to dealings with third parties: Magi will readily stand between an aggressor and their prey, with the implicit warning that the Magi have fought long and hard against foes more numerous and ferocious, and will not countenance blind pointless aggression or holocaust.

**Distraction**: "An enemy cannot function if you interfere with his inner workings. If you jam his radios, sub-units cannot communicate. If you sever supply lines, they cannot make their machines run. If you intercept commanders, the operation becomes disarrayed. If you destroy transports, you deny those transports to them and you make impossible a retreat."

Distracting an enemy from the main goal of his campaign or from the main operations you are running is a time-honored tradition to chop at the strength of the enemy in preparation to hammer their forces flat at a later time. By making unreliable the services and processes they rely on, you cripple morale, the flow of information, the maintenance of the units, and mostly the resolve of the enemy. Magi do not prefer such tactics to a straight-up victory over an untarnished foe, though wise commanders look past the ethos of glory and routinely employ such hardened tactics. Though far from the best at intelligence gathering, the Magi are some of the best in electronic warfare and signal intelligence, giving them easy mission-kills in jamming the enemy radios and intercepting their mail. Many is the battle twisted from a sure defeat to a stunning victory because the foes of the Empire were unable to maneuver against the Magi without the Magi seeing through their ploys or jamming communications and throwing whole regiments into disarray. Supply raiding provides a double-victory for the Magi, as stealing the enemy supply convoys denies those supplies to the enemy and allows them to the Magi. Armor Snipers, widely feared and respected among all the Empires, are specifically trained in the Magi to recognize command units and kill the commanding officers whenever possible. Intercepting or destroying transport methods is more rare than common among Magi formations, but is often used as a bargaining chip to force an enemy formation into reconsidering holding out or surrendering. In the employ of these tactics, the enemy frequently sees the peripheral symptoms for what they are, but very rarely if ever sees the central purpose of such otherwise 'dishonorable' actions until the maneuver forces close in on the enemy from multiple directions and the commander is struck down mid-sentence by a sniper's round.

**Deception**: "Don't think too hard, they're trying to get you to think like a Negaverse Lord. Think like a goddamned pirate, that is what Magi act like some days."

Another core tenet of Sun Tzu's legacy, deception is an integral part of modern warfare even when hiding is practically useless on the electronic battlefield. Deception is not simply relegated to hiding from the enemy, it is also making him think things are happening that are not necessarily happening. Allowing an enemy to think he is winning the war of maneuver by allowing him to take land you have staunchly defended for weeks, while moving your reserves into flanking positions and preparing minefields and artillery is deception in action—a feint and an ambush. A cunning commander can use multiple illusions at once, stage-managing his forces and manipulating an enemy commander into positions that seem safe but are far from tenable when pressure is applied, with apparently disorganized strikes and retreats designed to funnel the enemy into kill zones prepared for the purpose. Magi completely refrain from deception when using Trial by Combat, but in other engagements deception is a powerful tool that every command officer trains on long and hard. Some of the best Magi commanders in the Star Empire Wars were literally proven to make their Negaverse, Illyaris, and especially Dark Moon counterpart commanders outright cry, go insane, become utterly paranoid, or suffer mental breakdown simply because they were harried to the point of collapse, never given to the straight battle but always one step behind the Magi forces and their unpredictable actions. The effect on the troops is far worse than on the command staff, as the outright fear of not knowing what the enemy truly intends, where they will strike next, eats at the soul and the will until some units literally rebelled or surrendered to Magi _patrol teams_. The Dark Moon generals even came up with a rule of thumb pertaining to this phenomenon: "If the Magi commander is a cardsharp, actor, gamer, or historian, you will never get a straight fight out of them. If their commander is a pervert, drinker, glory-hawk or trained in the Draconis Combine, you may get a straight fight. If more than one of the above applies, assume the worst and double it."

**Equipment**: "He who has the most ammo and the best of the guns typically wins the battle, but when those Magi Armored Infantry get up in your face, all bets are off."

Equipment can provide a major sway to the arc of the battle, and among the Star Empires this is no exception. The automatic assumption of many is that the side with the better units, guns, tanks, planes, etcetera, is typically better outfitted, though this is not the case. If all the guns are in the hands of a few soldiers and the rest languish with a simple rifle, two grenades, and half empty magazines, the bulk of that force is not going to look favorably on any order to attack oncoming enemies. Conversely, a force that is small but has the best equipment their Empire can afford to give them is also not necessarily in a position of supreme power over the battlefield, especially if they are on the wrong end of 10-to-1 odds and the enemy had equipment 'just good enough to get the job done'. Striking a balance between capability and numbers is the respected position among all the Star Empires, though how this is accomplished is a major variable between them. The Magi, owing to their Emperor having started life as a mercenary swordsman, typically put a lot of faith in the common foot soldier, and along with the faith goes a lot of the best capabilities. Armored Infantry, Armored Marines, Armored Ghosts, Armor Snipers, Mobile Engineers, all have one thing in common: they are all outfitted with the most feared and respected technological armor systems, weapons and equipment of all the Star Empires, hands down, to the point that there are no _un_armored Infantry in the Magi, though this is accentuated with the fact that the Armored Infantry are as numerous as Negaverse unarmored infantry. The pole swings in the opposite direction for the Mechs, where few expenses are spared by the Magi for their standing armor forces, including duplicating and mass-producing the infamous Gundams. Back to the side of quantity, though not lacking in quality, Magi ground armor (battle tanks and such) are numerous as well as cost-efficient, and even tanks exist that can go toe-to-toe with the heaviest of Battlemechs and survive the battle.

By providing their troops with excellent equipment in adequate or better supply, the Magi have a step up on the logistically-disorganized enemies they face. More than once, whole enemy formations have been squelched and captured by the Magi because less than half of the force had their necessary weapons systems, the other half languishing with their weapons still in transit and relegated to being nothing more than poorly-trained riflemen. There were even reports, though unconfirmed, that some Dark Moon formations of division size or larger surrendered outright without firing a shot since they could not put up enough resistance to even waste Magi time.

**Morale**: "That warm, fuzzy feeling you keep getting in your pants, Corporal, has nothing to do with how the rest of the unit feels about the Magi bunker three hills over. While you're busy in the ammo dump with a Playgirl and a vibrator, the rest of us are shitting ourselves senseless because of those goddamned Thumpers and Long Toms."

Morale is more than just simply how 'happy' a unit is, though at a core perspective happiness does factor into it significantly. Morale, like willpower, is the willingness to endure the constant threat of death for whatever your purpose is, though it is not as broad as willpower (which typically is more focused on the whole picture, not the given battles). Many things affect morale, from leave to supplies to families, but two things stand out above all else: how the unit sees itself compared to their foe, and what their foe is doing to them. A unit that considers itself elite, facing down an equivalent force that it considers not elite, is going to have a serious advantage in morale because the unit is better than the enemy and should not lose. Conversely, a greenhorn unit that is tasked to attack even a small force of hardened, ruthless veterans is likely going to break hard and fast as soon as the going gets real tough. Magi are themselves masters of manipulating morale and keeping their own in good spirits, as the mail gets through on time or ahead of schedule, supplies are in order and well stocked, equipment is ruthlessly maintained, and training long days and hard nights makes for close teams, solid tactics, excellent gunnery, and a feeling of eliteness rivaled or bested by the enemy's special forces only. With solid traditions and good camaraderie to draw heart and resolve from and adventures of glory and duty ahead of them to look forward to, it is often said that "Magi are the only soldiers known to walk into battle with their stereos turned up loud as hell, their armor shined and waxed, smiling grimly as they do their jobs with insane precision and equally crazy jokes about it."

Though much is said of morale in both directions, one thing is crystal clear to all involved parties: breaking an enemy's morale is far easier than breaking their bodies or machines. A combination of overwhelming firepower, deceptive and damaging practices, outmaneuvering battles, and hopeless causes have brought armies down to the point of quivering, huddling, helpless masses on all sides of the equation, Magi included. Magi in particular are favorites of this rule, and nothing crushes morale of defenders and offensive formations faster than having a pair of Phalanx-class ships parked in orbit over the surface of a planet, raining death down on the enemy, and no hope whatsoever of stopping said ships from doing what they want to do. Artillery, fire, direct assaults, air strikes and carpet bombing are all just as effective if used right, and Magi are far from afraid to use them.

**Purpose**: "Pick your reason to fight." Pause of six seconds. "Know why you want to fight yet? Good. No go forth and make those bastards die for the cause you believe is right and just."

Easily the most influential mindset of a war, the purpose for the war is itself the defining factor for which a side, a unit, or even an individual soldier strives to fight his or her hardest. Despite this, it is often the most overlooked or downplayed mindset factor of all. Every person carries with them reasons for doing everything, from the mundane to the maleficent to the magnificent, but not always does these things translate beyond the person. The collective of the unit often takes up the slack from the persons, when the unit has a purpose that can be recognized, that is. Negaverse soldiers many times recounted that they pitched battles seemingly at random on the orders of their commanders without knowing why they were doing so, sometimes winning, not always losing, and very rarely making sense at all. The worst offenders in such conduct happened to be the Dark Moon and Dynasty, who very rarely showed any purpose or logic other than inflicting as much damage on their erstwhile foes as possible, and even they admitted as much after the war ended. In contrast, the Illyaris rarely fought without a clear purpose and the New Moon forces never fought without at least a basic understanding of the flow of the campaign. The most competent in this matter, the Magi, hold a deep-seated obsession with information and coordination in military matters, meaning that at all times every fighting trooper was aware of his or her tactical and strategic purposes and goals, never wasting effort and resources better spent elsewhere. Because purposes and goals were common knowledge, the action and command could be decentralized, giving more initiative to lower-ranking officers and formations to complete objectives independent of large maneuver formations, which forced the enemy to guard in ways that they could not readily do so and maintain effective defense.

The purpose of the Empires themselves also weighed heavily on the campaigns they fought. For the Magi, survival against no less than two or more than four other Star Empires was the hallmark of their every action, spurring even the civilians into feats beyond reasonable expectations. At no time during the Star Empire Wars, even during the peace of the Star League Era, was the populace of the Magi sufficiently divided that demilitarization or negotiation was preferred over honorable and disciplined defense of Magi national integrity. Some historians would point to this as the reason why the Star Empire Wars did not end with the Solstice Accords of year SL-683, which the Magi refused to sign whatsoever on the grounds that the treaty terms would force them to disarm by more than half, and instead the war continued for another 1400 years after that, including the bloody abattoir of the Quarter War. In stark contrast, the purpose of the Negaverse, for Queen Beryl to become the effective Empress of Existence, often hampered morale and mindset as much as it spurred the troops onward, as the promise of glory they fought for was not a promise of glory for them but for a promise of power for their Queen. This lust for power and control spurred the war onward and to greater excesses than ever before, finally culminating in a literal coup de main by the Magi to end her tainted bid for supremacy.

* * *

TRO SECTION:

It is time I quit screwing around. You have asked for the TRO for the _Mjolnr_ for a long time, it is time to give it to you.

**AeroTech 2 Vessel Technical Readout**

**Class/Model/Name**: Phalanx

**Tech: **Mixed (Clan) / 3067

**Vessel Type: **Superdreadnought *

**Rules: **Level 4, Custom design, not tournament legal

**Mass: **5,850,000 tons

**Length: **5,500 meters

**Sail Diameter: **3,850 meters

**Power Plant: **Standard

**Safe Thrust: **4

**Maximum Thrust: **6

**Armor Type: **Ferro-Carbide

**Armament:**

2 Heavy Naval Rail Guns *(Custom)  
4 Heavy Naval Gauss Rifles  
6 Heavy Naval PPCs  
30 Medium Naval PPCs  
26 NL55  
8 NL35s  
24 Naval Autocannon 30s  
16 AR-10 Launchers  
10 Kraken-T Launchers  
24 Killer Whale-T Launchers  
12 White Shark-T Launchers  
30 Barracuda-T Launchers  
26 ER Large Lasers  
80 Large Pulse Lasers  
130 Laser AMS  
24 Gauss Rifles  
44 Rotary Autocannon/10 (MF-UK)  
36 Streak LRM 15  
30 Streak SRM 6  
10 Screen Launchers

**Overview:**

The existence of the Phalanx-class ships is itself an exercise in the power of bureaucratic inertia continuing well after the commissioning bureaucracy was undercut and annihilated. The initial specifications written up by the Holy Olympus Government, whom had taken over the Multimage Empire and were thought to have killed the rightful Emperor, had requested a ship capable of defending and transporting the legions of Divine Priests and specifically for eliminating any renegade Magi warships who did not bow to the will of the Gods and the Olympus Government. Due to 'creative engineering' on the Magi scientist's part, the ship never cleared the drawing board in any combat-worthy configuration before the Gods themselves found out they failed to kill the Emperor—and failing to kill an Atrebas only makes them stronger.

Engineering on the Phalanx-class ships was officially halted in year 1016 of the After Empire Calendar, as their insidious purpose was considered useless now that the Emperor was back in command and there were no rebellious fleets to take down. Unofficially, an army of engineers, scientists, and technicians would continue the effort over the next two centuries, working on the project for hobby or minimum wage purposes, never officially sanctioned, never discussing the continuing effort outside their circles. Those few times inquiries were raised, there were always three other Warship projects and innumerable smaller craft projects on the boards that could be used to explain away the slow but steady effort. So good was the concealment of the continuing project that not even the Magi intelligence service knew it was happening until after the first ship had been built and slipped its moorings.

The original request from Zeus, the leader of the Greek Gods, had called for a Warship of 4 million tons and sufficient armor and firepower to crush at least two Warships of 2 million tons each, not including carried fighters or mobile suits. During the engineering process following his violent demise, the engineering teams found that the goal requested could not be matched or bested by the 4 million ton restriction. 5 million tons was settled on partway through the process. This turned out to be a problem for the K-F Engineers on the project, as their engine specifications could not be dialed in properly to match the change in mass, and with the latest modifications in K-F-E engines, the mass ratios would change and throw the whole unit out of balance. The ship was reengineered again for 5.5 million tons. Decades later, the project was revised yet again, to double the amount of Dropships carried by the unit from 40 to 80, citing the latest advances in Dropships that would allow one Phalanx to carry enough forces to crush any opposition in air, space or on land, as well as carry enough supply Dropships to maintain at least a 600-day patrol, which increased the mass to 5.6 million tons. One more revision came out five years later courtesy of a hair-brained fifteen-year-old female engineering student, who had designed the most ungodly-large Naval Railguns and opined that said guns could be very effective at smashing Warships in as few as one shot, as well as be useful for deploying other types of shells in suborbital bombardment; this development definitely drew the attention of the Phalanx engineers, who quickly incorporated such powerful weapons into their ship. After this last revision, the size was finally settled in at 5.85 million tons, and the whole project agreed that the ships would be finalized at that mass and no more.

Construction on the first Phalanx began February, year 1244 at a privately-funded naval contractor's shipyard station that had to be specially modified to construct the single massive vessel. Construction was run entirely on a black budget, no funds were used that could be traced directly to the Multimage Empire, and investors believed that they were investing in a series of new classes of smaller Warships, not one large ship that could trace its roots back to the Gods of yore and their insane depredations against the Empire and other parties. There was no press coverage of the ship during its engineering or construction phases, engineering and construction crews were sequestered in a series of colonies dedicated solely to the project, and outside contact and supplies were delivered only by the original Phalanx engineering team, who moonlighted as Dropship personnel to prevent the release of the secret by transferring documents or pictures to a foreign Dropship crew. Construction of the first Phalanx-class ship was completed in September, year 1246, again with no fanfare or even known Media coverage. This was a calculation on the technician's part, as they wanted to prove their ship from the ground up in the coming Naval Operation Games.

The Naval Operations Games of July 1247 saw many new classes of Warship in deploy, though to everyone who followed the games, they knew well of the ships that had been entered, as well as the ships that were returning from the games two and a half years prior, and betting was running heavily in favor of some of the new 1.9 million ton ships. No information was released whatsoever about the Phalanx-class except its name, _HW-01 Phalanx_, and the carried assets and assigned mercenary units that would be taking part in the games. The ship was listed in the registry before the games as having 20 attached Dropships, two of which were ground-only mercenary units, and had contracted out a dozen mercenary Aerofighter Trinaries and Clusters, as well as two clusters of mercenary Mobile Suits and two trinaries of mercenary Gundam units. Compared to some of the other ships, it was woefully understaffed and under-guarded, considering that Magi regulars had taken up the banners of the newer ships and were even crewing the older commissioned ships, though the catch was that the mercenary units had been training long and hard for years for the competition and were ready for anything that would be thrown at them. Betting ran heavily against the Phalanx in every category, a showing in the lack of confidence in the ship, the name, and the unwillingness of the manufacturing corporation to release any details. Price of the stock of Denete Naval Shipyards plummeted in the week prior to the competition, though the executives of the company, themselves kept in the dark about the Phalanx-class until it was entered in the competition, wagered their own personal fortunes on the shadow newcomer, knowing the extent of the monster they were about to unleash on the Games.

Nothing was known of the Phalanx until it showed up at the site of the Naval Operations Games, at the Waypoint-class Space Dock station where the Division Commander of the Techstrikers was waiting to begin the games. At first everyone thought the ship was something of a joke, a paper tiger made to look bigger than the other ships and thus more intimidating, though the Division Commander was the only officer on the station that knew properly of the old tale of the Phalanx-class, and knew immediately he was looking at something positively monumental in both scale and implication. Without hesitation the DCT took to space in his Zephyranthes Gundam and boarded the _Phalanx_ to inspect the ship and meet the crew. The ship was not crewed by Magi officers, was not commanded by an experienced Admiral, was guarded by Mercenaries, had damn little documentation, manuals, or procedures, and had an absolutely horrendous price tag per ship, but unlike the other ships in the ballet it had something the Magi always respected: an extremely motivated crew that was willing to die if necessary to prove their vessel superior to anything in the skies. So impressed with the modern architecture, engineering, systems, and weapons of the Phalanx, and especially with its scratch-up non-professional crew, the Division Commander overrode every protest from the other Admirals and allowed the ship into the games without any form of handicap, as he wanted to see how the ship would perform under real world circumstances.

Of all the ships in the 1247 Naval Operations Games, the only ship to complete every task set to it with less than ten percent casualties was the _Phalanx_, and that simply because the engineering teams had literally **over**engineered the Phalanx-class for its mission. No combination of _five_ combatant Warships and carried assets were able to stand up to the massive Warship, to the point that ComStar began calling it 'The Superdreadnought', in clear homage to the ancient naval Warships that were considered the kings of naval warfare. The ability for the Phalanx to smash smaller Warships in two to four blows of its massive Heavy Naval Rail Guns made it the hands-down winner in the dueling bracket of the games, to the point that it won two of its ten matches without firing a shot, the enemy simply refused combat and retreated. The defensive staying power of the ship proved literally so massive that multiple Warships could beat on the same sector of the ship and not breach it in a half hour's simulated gun action, and this all the while the ship was returning amounts of fire that well exceeded their own firepower. The true nature of the Phalanx-class became known in the anti-fighter category, as its hundreds of fighter-scale guns positively tore apart fighters, Mobile Suits, Mobile Dolls, and Small Craft without reserve. The capstone of the _Phalanx_ triumph was the planetary landing and ground support operations, where the carrying capacity of the ship was heavily exploited and the naval weapons batteries sundered whole simulated regiments in minutes flat. Combined with the most advanced sensor systems available to the Magi, even Dropships maneuvering around in atmosphere were far from safe from the Phalanx-class, traditionally a difficult or impossible shot for most Warships.

The final day of the Games saw the arrival of one very unusual spectator: the Emperor himself, fresh from campaigning against a sect of Clans that had been attacking Magi interests in an alternate dimension, who looked forward to the final outcome of the exercises and had taken up observation on the _Phalanx_ itself. The last task required of the champion ship, the Phalanx, was a live-fire suborbital bombardment exercise against real (and outdated) military equipment that was being remotely piloted to simulate real crews. The crew, hardened in the past month's combat exercises and sharpened by exertions they would never have imagined needed by a Warship, took to the challenge without reservation, laying in a complete broadside capital barrage for five minutes against the targets, then rotating over to deploy the massive Heavy Naval Rail Guns against the final target, a nuclear-strike-hardened bunker. Two shots with the naval armor penetrators was all that was required to turn the bunker into rubble, which had survived repeated strikes of NAC/40 in years past. After the cheering subsided, the Emperor declared that he would free up the necessary budget to commission the Phalanx-class ships immediately and begin production on 'the first truly innovative Magi warship in a century'.

In the decades to come, the Engineering teams that had worked silently and unobtrusively on a long-dead project would be honored by the Empire and specifically by the crews of the new ships. Each of the first 1140 official ships of the class bore the name of one of the 1140 engineers that had worked on the ship during its engineering cycle, and all the engineers stand honored at the Phalanx Memorial on the Empire's capital world of Terra 2. The crew of the first Phalanx-class ship was commissioned directly into the Multimage Empire Techstrikers by order of the Emperor, and more than half of the crew was inducted into the Eugenics Program for meritorious conduct on their first tour of duty.

Phalanx-class ships bear the designation MHW in their hull number, which stands for **M**ultimage (super)**H**eavy **W**arship. The designation MSW had been assigned to a now-deceased class of Warships decades before the completion of the first Phalanx, and the Admiralty would not revoke the prior-assigned designation for the new hulls to use it. The name Superdreadnought was not accepted among the Magi for the ship's nomenclature officially, though most personnel offhand refer to it as a Superdreadnought, with anything over 7 million tons classified as an Ultradreadnought.

**Capabilities:**

The Phalanx-class was engineered thoroughly for the purpose of intercepting fleets of smaller Warships and sinking them before they could pose a threat to local shipping or the planet the Phalanx is guarding. From the first day it saw combat in the Games to the latest ships of the class on long-range border patrol, the Phalanx has acquitted every task it was assigned that was not deemed impossible by military review.

The main distinguishing feature of the class is the amount of armor the ship carries, giving it the necessary defensive staying power to handle any task it needs to. With 35000 tons of Ferro-Carbide Armor covering the ship, the Phalanx-class is extremely tough to crack in all real terms—the effective protection carried by one ship exceeds that of a dozen or more smaller ships; for reference, the much-feared Leviathan-class Warship only mounts in the area of 1250 tons of armor; the main contender for most feared Warship ever, the McKenna-class, carries 1340 tons of armor of a type almost exactly matched to the Phalanx. This absurdly large amount of armor—literally massing more than 96% of Dropships in use would mass fully loaded—gives the Phalanx the ability to take sustained heavy fire from any other Warship in Existence, including other equivalent or smaller Superdreadnoughts, and continue fighting.

The arsenal of the Phalanx-class seems less than an afterthought on paper, but in practice is nigh-terrifying to anyone who has to do combat with the ship. Where many ships would dedicate as much as 30 percent of their mass to weapon systems, the Phalanx carries less than 15 percent of its mass in weapons. On the other hand, the 630,000 tons of weapons carried literally makes the arsenal outweigh most non-combat Jumpships and even some Warship designs in their entirety. The bulk of the arsenal is in point-defense weapons, designed for the purpose of eliminating the large amounts of fighters and mobile suits that smaller fleets tend to rely on for smashing through Warships. Additionally, in close range to larger ships these weapons are often turned on the enemy shipping as a way to cause even more damage than would be expected by the capital weapons.

The crowning achievement of the class is the Heavy Naval Rail Guns, weapons deemed too large to be useful on a Warship when initially discussed in open forum, but weapons for which the engineering student that designed them became famous. Each Railgun is capable of throwing a five-ton titanium-plated ferrous 'slug' as default munition, or can also be used to launch other configurations of weaponry, namely a five-ton winged ultra-dense long-rod penetrator or a five-ton contact-fused explosive shell. The Long-rod penetrators in particular are renown for being able to blow through ships under 1.25 million tons mass the long way, and ships double that size from the side. The only limitation the gun has is the shell weight cannot be pushed past 5.5 tons without risking serious damage to the rails, otherwise if it can be magnetically thrown (or shoehorned into something that can be magnetically launched) it is fair game.

Defensively, the Phalanx carries a staggering 130 Laser AMS spread around the ship except dead to the front. Though the system accounts for over 10 percent of the ship's cooling and component power system, the Laser AMS Grid has proved so useful that stripping it down is typically the last thing considered for field modifications. With the capability to intercept an average of 900 individual missiles fired at the ship per minute, concentrated missile strikes against the ship are more likely to fail than straight-on gun action. Consequently, missile frigates are the first and usually the fastest to withdraw from battle against a Phalanx, since their primary armaments are practically useless against the ship and are often singled out quickly by veteran Magi ships to prevent them causing significant damage to fighters.

The most surprising characteristic of the Phalanx is the sheer volume of carried assets one ship has. Internally, a single Phalanx in default configuration can carry 200 Mobile Armors, 300 Mobile Suits, 50 small craft, and 225 Aerospace Fighters, giving a single ship more than three short galaxies of mobile assets to counter whatever is thrown at them. This can be reconfigured into practically any combination of units totaling no more than 301,000 tons, though this typically requires several months of overhaul to complete. It is not unheard of for a Phalanx to completely eschew its Mobile Armor collection in favor of more Fighters for space battle or Mobile Suits for ground campaigns. At most, given that the bays mass the same but are structured different for MS and Fighters, a ship can have up to 2006 bays for Mechs, MS, Gundams or Fighters, or in practice one reinforced galaxy of fighters (800) and three reinforced galaxies of MS and Gundams (400 each).

In terms of speed, the Phalanx is not as much a slouch as its bulk would lend credence to. With 12 StarCore XVIII Engine nacelles integrated in four batteries to the stern of the ship, the class has more thrust than most Star League-era Warships and is at least the rival of more contemporary ships. In pure maneuverability it is not lacking in the least, with enough cross-range thrusters and apogee motors to easily turn full circle in as little as sixty seconds if needed. These capabilities are married to an advanced navigation and control system that allows the behemoth warship amazing agility—many horror stories abound of rival Star Empire naval forces caught in two-way, three-way, or four-way ambushes by Phalanx ships that had maneuvered around them through debris fields and asteroid belts to conceal their flanking attack, and suffered little to no damage courtesy of such maneuvers.

As always, the heart of a Warship is the K-F hyperdrive, and the Phalanx is no exception. Equipped with an advanced modulated K-F-E compact drive, the Phalanx is capable of the all-important interplanetary jump as well as cross-dimensional transit that makes it truly useful in long-range recon and patrol missions. Unlike the other ships of the era, the Phalanx does not carry the incredibly expensive Lithium-Fusion Battery necessary to make two jumps consecutively without a recharge, which both drastically hauls back on the final price and simplifies maintenance on the mammoth ship. The eighty docking collars tied to the massive drive allow for the transport of a wide variety of shipping, and rare is the ship that jumps with half or less of those collars loaded. The ship itself has stowage for 160,000 tons of material, typically used for extra supplies for the crew, ship, and carried assets, and it carries 58,000 tons of spare parts for the ship itself to keep it underway for several months at a time without the need to stock up frequently.

Crew amenities on the ship are not lacking in the slightest. Personnel are quartered in standard bunks, officers in slightly better bunks, and there are recreational facilities available throughout the ship. Concessions are available for whole families who take residence on the ship, even including standard-grade schooling for children as well as obvious vocational training in military or spacecraft sciences. Standard galleys are spread throughout the ship as well as usually having a collection of private-owned and -operated restaurants and bars on the ship. Each ship includes standard simulation rooms and most have extra entertainment facilities for the off-duty personnel, such as nightclubs or karaoke bars or similar. Earlier ships launched with gravity decks to provide the crew some simulation of weight, though ships built after year 2210 all include the Gravitic Lattice throughout the ship that allows for whole-ship gravity (or antigravity) and precludes the necessity of rotating sections. And if things pale out on the ship, there is always fun and fortune to seek in the bowels of the carried Dropships and Monitors, a common haunt of off-duty personnel on long tours: many a Marine has learned how to assemble an Omnimech from spare parts lying about the hangars of carried Dropships when not on duty.

Though engineered long before the Universal Maintenance Initiative of the Quarter War, the Phalanx-class was easily adapted to the changing standards and retrofitted onto the old ships just the same. Maintenance is costly nonetheless, given that the ships are extremely costly per unit they have large and very expensive subsystems, but the tasks and difficulty of those tasks are ameliorated by the fact that the ship was overengineered for its purpose. The design teams made sure that fixing what was broke on a Phalanx-class was as simple and painless as possible, giving technicians plenty of room to work in and around components and FRUs, making mounting systems modular and lockable while easy to replace if needed, and even providing cabling access corridors around computers and powered equipment so a technician could easily run new wire or reconnect existing cables without having to try to 'fish' it through conduits that may not exist after battle damage took its toll. This alone has made it beloved of the millions of crews that have served on these ships, that above and beyond the fact that the ship was deliberately overstaffed by as much as 1100 personnel to crew it, allowing for rotating vacations even while in a tour and far from port.

**Battle History:**

The battle history of the Phalanx-class is one almost as ancient as the Empire itself, and the long service record of the ship has garnered it many feats of insane prowess matched by no other ship in Existence. The first blows of the Star Empire Wars were struck against the side of a Phalanx-class, and the final naval blows of the same war were struck literally _by the same ship that was the ship fired on first by the Negaverse_. In between, the 46,200 Phalanx-class ships manufactured before and during the war reaped impressive feats and stunning victories unheard of in naval warfare, though not without astronomical costs in both material and net losses. In total, 27,184 ships of the class remained active at the end of the war.

The ship that both began and ended the war, the MHW-644 _Eileen Weste_, served as the flagship of one of the Capital Orbital Fleets that protected the heavy-populated colonies and satellites around Terra 02, the Multimage capital world. Relieved by Task Force Red Blossom to leave orbit and conduct independent training maneuvers away from the colonies and travel routes, the _Eileen Weste_ moved to the nadir jump point and proceeded farther outside the gravity well to conduct three weeks of simulated ship-to-ship combat between the two Phalanx-class ships of the COF group. Three days into heavy ship-on-ship simulated gun action, an unidentified task force of a dozen large Warships, ranging from 1 million tons to 2.2 million tons each, jumped into the Nadir jump point nearby the maneuvers. After failing to receive a reply from the unknown vessels, the _Eileen Weste_ and her sister ship _Dona Riquez_ moved on the fleet as they began the seven-day transit to Terra. Herein the astounding speed of the Phalanx came into play, as none of the ships in the hostile fleet were able to outpace the massive ships or their escorts. Rather than surrender as ordered, the flagship of the hostile fleet opened fire on the _Eileen Weste_ preemptively at long range, followed ten seconds later by practically every other ship in the force.

It came as a very rude shock to the Admiral of the enemy fleet that the heavy barrage did not even slow down the Phalanx-class ships, who returned fire in spades moments after the whole enemy fleet let loose; with four long-rod penetrators of the monolithic Heavy Naval Rail Guns fired against the flagship, two strikes disabled its engines and K-F-E jump core, and just like that the Star Empires Wars began in earnest with the disabling of the Negaverse McKenna-class Warship _Void of Soul_. The two fleets clashed hard for ten minutes, though in the end three of the enemy Warships surrendered to the two Magi Phalanx units, proclaiming themselves a woefully underprepared invasion fleet of the Negaverse Star Empire. The combat action started that day would be only the precursor to 3500 years of war that would grow to involve six massive Star Empires and thousands of minor players.

The final shots of the same war were fired by the same ship that received the first shots of the war. _Eileen Weste_, a ship over four millennia old and veteran of hundreds of campaigns, was ironically the last ship to fire in anger at the Negaverse, hours after the surrender was officially declared on their homeworld. Having sunk the final guard fleet around the manufacturing world of Tharkad 682, the _Eileen Weste_ moved into position over the planet's main spaceport to support landing operations of mixed battlemechs and ground vehicles for taking the planet by force. The battle for the spaceport began with Aerofighter strikes against defending gun emplacements as the first two clusters of elite omnimech forces sky-dropped from their transports. As the Aerofighters moved outward from the Spaceport to bomb and strafe the incoming ground forces, the warship took up the support of the landing forces with broadside strikes of Naval Lasers, Naval Particle Cannons, and Naval Autocannons, each weapon tearing into the hardened bunkers and gun emplacements without reserve. With the forces on the ground and the static defenses all but annihilated, support priority shifted to the garrison armor that was bearing down on the spaceport from the north as the fighters manhandled the three companies of mercenary Battlemechs to the south and east. As the _Eileen Weste_ retasked to the north, the fighters were recalled to the ship to guard against a possible fighter incursion from the moon seen on on long-range sensor scans. As the first batteries of guns opened fire on the garrison tanks, the HPG on the ship received a priority message to cease all combat actions due to Negaverse unconditional surrender. It would later be determined that no other Magi Warship was in combat with Negaverse units at the time of the reception of the stand-down orders, though several ships were within minutes of opening fire at that time. The ground forces in battle had already ceased fire, most of them forewarned faster by other means or Negaverse HPG messages to that effect.

The last shots fired against the Negaverse were a series of twelve Medium Naval Particle Cannons from the _Eileen Weste_, resulting in 26 heavily damaged or destroyed light and medium ground vehicles. A memorial was placed at the impact site of the last of those Particle Cannons to hit, signifying 'the last naval action of the war that nearly destroyed Existence in its bloody fury' as the memorial marker says. To this day, 12,000 years after the end of the war, military personnel, school children, historians and tourists from all six Star Empires visit the memorial to see where it ended. The twisted wreckage of a Partisan anti-air tank is the foundation of the memorial, and in the field surrounding it is the hulks of nearly fifty tanks, armored cars, and hovertanks destroyed in the moments and seconds leading up to the final shot.

**Variants:**

Variants of the venerable Phalanx are a dicey proposition. The arsenal was structured and engineered prior to the Universal Maintenance Initiative, therefore care must be given when modifying even the standard-scale armaments of the ship lest the cooling and power systems be overtaxed. Even still, there are numerous Phalanx that do not mount the standard arsenal in its entirely, mostly eschewing some of the ballistic or missile weapons for a more energy-based compliment and additional cooling system. The performance of these modified ships is comparable to the other ships of the class but far from enough of an improvement to justify retrofitting thousands of the ships and reengineering the new ones to the same effect.

As prior mentioned, the most common modification made to Phalanx units is the ratio of mobile assets carried. Most ships are in the standard 200-300-225 configuration of MA-MS-Fighters, though this has been inverted on some ships to be 200-225-300, a move which favors space battles and hit-and-run operations. Also sometimes seen is the aforementioned stripping out of all Mobile Armors from the ship for vastly-increased fighter and MS squadrons in a 0-1200-800 configuration, given that in certain eras of the ship's operation Mobile Armors were incredibly scarce but Mobile Suits and Gundams were not.

Lastly, an exceedingly rare configuration option is the reduction of the Mobile Forces entirely, trading in the ship's carrier status for the extra 300,000 tons of mobile assets being used as cargo storage, and relying on carried Dropships for fighter escort. This has been done only to two ships as a testbed for using the class as ultra-heavy freighters after the war ended, though even with theoretically reducing the arsenal of the ships by 60 percent (bringing the cargo capacity up well past 750,000 tons), the operating expense of the Phalanx-class is still far too much to be economically feasible even for the largest of the Megacorps when wagered against what it can carry to and fro. These two ships were reassigned to Colonization Corporation as military liaisons, and are now used as heavy colonization ships along with a significant portion of the other Phalanx-class ships, though the remainder did not trade in their carried units.

**Notable Vessels & Crews:**

Simply stated, there are no Phalanx ships that are _not_ notable. The ship has performed so admirably over the millennia that it has a different nickname from each of the other Star Empires:

Negaverse: "Old Ironsides", in reference to its age and how hard it is to kill. This is the only nickname that can be chronologically confirmed as to when it first came into use, and was coined by Negaverse Admiral Jess Devoix Smith after watching one Phalanx ship (MHW-3307 _Golden Grip_) take enough punishment to annihilate twenty smaller ships and continue fighting as if it had not been damaged to begin with. First used in year 2941 of the Magi calendar.

Illyaris: "Star Destroyer", a backwards joke referencing the ship to the movies of the _Star Wars_ franchise, though any Phalanx Captain will tell you that a Star Destroyer would win in such a fight hands down, due to the immense striking power of a Star Destroyer's guns.

Dark Moon: "Super Crusher", in clear reference to the paired Heavy Naval Rail Guns that were used to literally crush an 'impregnable' Dark Moon Fortress on a sub-capital world. The fortress was long assumed to be destroyable or could be captured only by way of a nuclear weapon, and plans were disseminated to build such fortresses on every important planet,

Dynasty: "Steel Demon", homage to the fact that normal Dynasty methods of killing things did not work on Phalanx ships, making it practically impossible for the almost-completely-groundbound Dynasty forces to defeat it at first. It was over 1600 years into the war before the Dynasty sunk their first Phalanx, MHW-5718 _Phantom Train_.

New Moon: "Star-Damned Angel", a particularly nasty epithet in the common culture of the New Moon Empire. Angels are considered highly evil by the mostly-nonhuman New Moon populace, as they are a symbol of human religious barbarism, xenophobia and persecution against those who do not conform to said religious practices. To be Star-Damned is essentially the same among the New Moon as telling someone to 'get butt-fucked by Satan after going to hell' in common Human language. The Phalanx earned this reputation by being literally untouchable by the completely-nontechnological New Moon forces, and it quickly became a symbol of the bloody excess of Star Empire warfare and how war had become something far less honorable than was passed down by their ancestry. The New Moon Empire never claimed a single Phalanx in combat, though after the initial opening decades of the war it never became necessary: the Magi and the New Moon were the only two Empires to stabilize and maintain a positive relationship with each other, never requiring further combat with the ships.

**Deployment**

Phalanx Ships are the elite of the Multimage naval forces, though far from the most numerous. In total, as of the beginning of the Second Star League (year 15611 of the Magi calendar) there are 202,943 Phalanx-class ships in active duty with the Empire, not including museum ships or memorial ships. The fleet of Phalanx ships, personnel and carried assets account for 3.84 percent of the Multimage military budget per year, though this percentage is relatively stable in terms of the expanding military size, given the population expansion exceeding this percentage faster than the military budget can expand.

The ship is used in four fashions: patrol, offense, defense, and colonization. In a patrol scenario, one or two ships will move with a limited amount of escorts and carried assets, jumping from one inhabited system to the next on a randomized path generated by Fleet Command, usually operating for a year at a time. These patrols typically cover only otherwise unguarded or lightly-guarded planetary systems or deep-space colony groups, as more important systems have static defenses and forces to repel an invasion.

In a defensive scenario, three to five of the Phalanx will guard a very high value area or planetary system with a moderate amount of carried assets (typically fifty to sixty Dropships), often for decades on end, guarding and training for an enemy invasion attempt against their ward. Defensive fleets are typically also used as training cadre for incoming Warship personnel and greenhorn fighter groups, though this practice does not describe the net effect to an enemy fleet if they are foolhardy to attack the defenders head-on.

In an offensive use, four to six Phalanx ships will be deployed heavily with massive ground forces, escorts, supply Jumpships and enough transport Dropships to conduct a long-term siege campaign typically lasting as much as three years. With each ship carrying as much as a Legion of forces (as many as 35 Galaxies of ground forces), an offensive fleet is easily capable of taking control of a very significant portion of an empire's holdings in one dimension. Typically, after taking a system, garrison forces will be brought in to free up the assault teams to move on to the next system slated for invasion. In a by-the-book offensive tour, a four-ship fleet will normally take 72 heavily-defended worlds and as many as 240 lightly-defend worlds in the space of three years.

The final and most frequent use of the ship does not itself involve combat. The 80-Dropship capacity of a Phalanx gives the Colonization Corporation one-jump capability to colonize a whole planet without the need to involve multiple relay-runs of smaller Jumpships. As the Magi are one of the most prolific groups in Existence in terms of both raw size and expansion rate, the necessity of opening up new planets to hordes of civilians willing to relocate is a requirement. As such, when loaded completely with Guild II-class Dropships in Colonization configuration, a Phalanx-class can transport 400,000 colonists and 1.76 million tons of supplies and cargo to a new world to be made into a new home for the citizens of the Empire. This also includes an array of 8,000 ground vehicles, mostly noncombat vehicles but also a smattering of garrison armor for the new planet; these first troops are usually engineering teams to aid in building up the new planet alongside the civilians, not traditional garrison or armor forces.

It is testament to the power and symbolism of the ship that it is still being constructed at the citizenry-mandated rate of 15 ships per fiscal year, even an eon after the end of the Star Empire Wars.

* * *

**Class/Model/Name**: Phalanx / (Standard carry bays)

**Mass: **5,850,000 tons

**Equipment**: Mass

**Power Plant: **Standard (1404000)

**K-F Hyperdrive: ***Modulated Super-Compact KF Core)* (Integrity = 72) (1755000)

**Jump Sail: **(Integrity = 17) (322.5)

**Structural Integrity: **190 (1111500)

**Safe Thrust: **4

**Maximum Thrust: **6

**Heat Sinks: **8420 Double (6700)

**Fuel & Fuel Pumps: **(18750)

**Bridge & Controls: **(14625)

**Fire Control Computers: **(100000)

**Food & Water: **(200 days supply) (6340)

**Hyperpulse Generator: **(50)

**Armor Factor: **22200 Ferro-carbide (35000)

* * *

Armor Value

**(Capital Scale)**

**Fore: **4500

**Fore Left / Right: **3850 / 3850

**Aft Left / Right: **3500 / 3500

**Aft: **3000

* * *

Equipment & Options:

**Cargo: **(Tonnage)

Bay 1: Mobile Armors (200) with 50 doors (210000)

Bay 2: MS or Gundams (300) with 75 doors (45000)

Bay 3: Fighters (225) with 50 doors (33750)

Bay 4: Small Craft (50) with 13 doors (12500)

Bay 5: Cargo (163450 tons) with 80 doors (163450)

**DropShip Capacity:**

80 Docking Hardpoints (80000)

**Escape Pods: **240 (7 tons each) (1680)

**Gravitic Lattice: **1 System (58500)

**Crew and Passengers:**

383 Officers

1215 Crew

700 Gunners

400 Marine Battle Armor Troopers/Elementals

1100 Extra Crew and Technicians

2550 Bay Personnel

TOTAL PERSONNEL: 6348

* * *

Weapons & Equipment:

Heavy Naval Rail Gun (40 rounds) (Fore)

Heavy Naval Rail Gun (40 rounds) (Fore)

2 Heavy N-Gauss (120 rounds) (Fore)

2 Heavy N-Gauss (120 rounds) (Fore)

3 Heavy Naval PPC (Fore)

3 Heavy Naval PPC (Fore)

2 NL55 (Fore)

2 NL55 (Fore)

2 NL55 (Fore)

2 NL55 (Fore)

4 NL35 (FL/FR)

4 AR-10 (15 each class missile) (FL/FR)

4 AR-10 (15 each class missile) (FL/FR)

5 Barracuda-T (20 missiles) (FL/FR)

4 Large Pulse Laser (C) (FL/FR)

4 Large Pulse Laser (C) (FL/FR)

4 Large Pulse Laser (C) (FL/FR)

4 Large Pulse Laser (C) (FL/FR)

4 Large Pulse Laser (C) (FL/FR)

6 Laser AMS (C) (FL/FR)

6 Laser AMS (C) (FL/FR)

6 Laser AMS (C) (FL/FR)

6 Laser AMS (C) (FL/FR)

6 Laser AMS (C) (FL/FR)

4 Gauss Rifle (C) (240 rounds) (FL/FR)

4 Gauss Rifle (C) (240 rounds) (FL/FR)

4 Gauss Rifle (C) (240 rounds) (FL/FR)

3 Rotary Autocannon 10 (C, MFUK) (1080 rds) (FL/FR)

3 Rotary Autocannon 10 (C, MFUK) (1080 rds) (FL/FR)

4 Streak LRM 15 (C) (240 rounds) (FL/FR)

4 Streak LRM 15 (C) (240 rounds) (FL/FR)

3 Medium Naval PPC (L / RBS)

3 Medium Naval PPC (L / RBS)

3 Medium Naval PPC (L / RBS)

3 Medium Naval PPC (L / RBS)

2 NAC/30 (120 rounds) (L / RBS)

2 NAC/30 (120 rounds) (L / RBS)

2 NAC/30 (120 rounds) (L / RBS)

2 NAC/30 (120 rounds) (L / RBS)

2 NAC/30 (120 rounds) (L / RBS)

2 NAC/30 (120 rounds) (L / RBS)

4 Killer Whale – T (120 rounds) (L / RBS)

4 Killer Whale – T (120 rounds) (L / RBS)

4 Killer Whale – T (120 rounds) (L / RBS)

3 White Shark – T (90 rounds) (L / RBS)

3 White Shark – T (90 rounds) (L / RBS)

2 Rotary Autocannon 10 (C, MFUK) (720 rds) (L / RBS)

2 Rotary Autocannon 10 (C, MFUK) (720 rds) (L / RBS)

2 Rotary Autocannon 10 (C, MFUK) (720 rds) (L / RBS)

2 Rotary Autocannon 10 (C, MFUK) (720 rds) (L / RBS)

2 Rotary Autocannon 10 (C, MFUK) (720 rds) (L / RBS)

4 ER Large Laser (C) (L / RBS)

4 ER Large Laser (C) (L / RBS)

2 NL35 (RL/RR)

2 NL35 (RL/RR)

5 Kraken – T (150 missiles) (RL/RR)

5 Barracuda – T (150 missiles) (RL/RR)

5 Barracuda – T (150 missiles) (RL/RR)

5 Screen Launcher (125 screens) (RL/RR)

4 Large Pulse Laser (C) (RL/RR)

4 Large Pulse Laser (C) (RL/RR)

4 Large Pulse Laser (C) (RL/RR)

4 Large Pulse Laser (C) (RL/RR)

4 Large Pulse Laser (C) (RL/RR)

4 Medium Pulse Laser (C) (RL/RR)

4 Medium Pulse Laser (C) (RL/RR)

4 Medium Pulse Laser (C) (RL/RR)

4 Medium Pulse Laser (C) (RL/RR)

4 Medium Pulse Laser (C) (RL/RR)

6 Laser AMS (C) (RL/RR)

6 Laser AMS (C) (RL/RR)

6 Laser AMS (C) (RL/RR)

6 Laser AMS (C) (RL/RR)

6 Laser AMS (C) (RL/RR)

2 Rotary Autocannon 10 (C, MFUK) (720 rds) (RL/RR)

2 Rotary Autocannon 10 (C, MFUK) (720 rds) (RL/RR)

2 Rotary Autocannon 10 (C, MFUK) (720 rds) (RL/RR)

5 Streak LRM 15 (C) (200 rds) (RL/RR)

5 Streak LRM 15 (C) (200 rds) (RL/RR)

5 Streak SRM 6 (C) (150 rds) (RL/RR)

5 Streak SRM 6 (C) (150 rds) (RL/RR)

5 NL55 (Rear)

5 NL55 (Rear)

3 Medium Naval PPC (Rear)

3 Medium Naval PPC (Rear)

2 ER Large Laser (C) (Rear)

2 ER Large Laser (C) (Rear)

2 ER Large Laser (C) (Rear)

2 ER Large Laser (C) (Rear)

2 ER Large Laser (C) (Rear)

5 Streak SRM 6 (C) (150 rds) (Rear)

5 Streak SRM 6 (C) (150 rds) (Rear)

5 Laser AMS (C) (Rear)

5 Laser AMS (C) (Rear)

**TOTALS: **16262 Heat

5849950.81 Tons of equipment**  
**

**Tons Left: **49.19

* * *

Calculated Factors:

**Total Cost: **117,075,885,103.95 C-Bills

**Battle Value: **Unknown (In excess of 900,000 BV)

**Cost per BV: **133,084 (assuming 900,000 BV)

**Weapon Value: **Unknown

**BATTLETECH SPECIAL RULES:**

Phalanx-class ships follow all standard combat procedures for Warships, with one notable exception: Initiative for the Phalanx-class ships is always below any other kind of vessel, except for Ultradreadnoughts. Therefore, all phases go as follows: Ultradreadnoughts, Superdreadnoughts (Phalanx), Dreadnoughts, then follow normal Aerotech 2 turn order.

When determining effects of a jump performed by a Superdreadnought, increase the affected radius around the ship from the magnetic field by two hexes and step up the damage incrementally assuming the the outermost two hex rows are the same as the normal radius of a jumpship or warship. Note that a Jumpship in the outermost row of hexes will still be affected by a jump, but will not interfere with a Superdreadnought's jump (no chance for shutdown or critical damage to the Phalanx jump engine).

HEAVY NAVAL RAIL GUN:

Classified as Naval Gauss weapon. Each standard slug causes 200 points of capital-scale damage. AT2 Range special: this weapon performs flat across all four range brackets in a normal AT2 game, which comes out to +2 to hit penalty for short, medium, long and extreme range, highlighting the difficulty in turning the whole ship to target an enemy. This weapon is capable of interplanetary bombardment, whereby a ship can take orbit around Terra's moon and fire on the surface of Terra with only the usual suborbital bombardment penalties (firing through ASI, each hex of atmosphere traveled, suborbital penalty). Against space targets, these guns fire at a +1 penalty per 300,000 kilometers of travel.

This weapon cannot under any circumstance deliberately target craft below 300 tons, and suffers +10 to-hit against craft below 1000 tons (replacing the normal modifier for capital weapons against targets below 500 tons).

Each shot of the massive guns produces 100 heat. Each HNRG masses 200,000 tons, and ships are limited to 1 HNRG per 2 million tons of ship mass. Ammo for the HNRG weighs five tons per shot. Cost per unit is 500 million C-bills, with a cost per slug of 300,000. Obviously, this is Level 3 equipment (non-tournament in CBT Tech Manual parlance).

SPECIAL ORDINANCE: The HNRG can use special ordinance as defined below. Prior to the start of gameplay, a player controlling a Phalanx should designate what type of shells are carried per each gun. This is due to the fact that the two magazines for the Rail Guns are not co-located and the ammo reserve for one cannot feed the other. Any combination of the shells listed below can be carried and used in any order the player desires.

Standard Slugs: Each slug causes 200 points capital-scale damage and follows normal rules for Aerotech weapons fire. This is the most commonly-used shell and the default option if no ammo type is specified.

Long-Rod Penetrators: APFSDS shells can be used by the Heavy Naval Rail Guns for attacks against heavy-armor targets. Each APFSDS long-rod penetrator causes 200 points of capital scale damage, but see the rules below before marking the armor boxes off. APFSDS attacks differ from standard weapons attacks in the following ways: APFSDS shells receive a -1 to-hit bonus when used in suborbital strikes, as they are faster and less prone to atmospheric shifting when going through the atmosphere. When resolving hits against other Aerotech units, the APFSDS checks for a critical hit regardless of whether or not it exceeded the damage threshold of the struck location. Additionally, against targets smaller than 2 million tons or targets that have less than 150 capital-scale armor, roll 2d6. On a result of 8 or better (5 or better if both less than 2 million tons and less than 150 capital armor), the projectile has gone straight through the target (over-penetrated). In such cases, automatically apply the appropriate critical hit for the location hit, and resolve damage in the following fashion. First, roll three to-hit rolls. If any of the rolls match the same facing as already hit, automatically apply those critical hit effects as well. Second, the damage applied to the facing struck is 75 capital-scale points. The internal structure of the ship takes 50 capital-scale damage, and if the ship targeted is a Warship or Jumpship, roll 2d6: on a result of 6+ for jumpships or 8+ for Warships, the K-F Drive takes a critical hit. The Slug then attacks the facing of armor directly opposite the ship from where the hit initially struck (for example, if shot in the nose, the slug then attacks the rear of the ship). Damage to this armor location is 75 points capital, and the defending player rolls against each class of critical hit for the location in question using the appropriate column as if they had been shot in the opposite location to begin with, and all critical hits taken apply.

Explosive Shells: Explosive shells are primarily used for dealing with thin-skinned targets and ground targets, though can be used against larger ships if needed. Each explosive shell causes the prerequisite 200 points of capital damage, though this is not necessarily all to one location. When resolving hits against capital-scale targets, roll a location on the appropriate column, then roll an additional 2d6. On a result of 2 to 5, all the damage is in one location. On a result of 6 to 8, the damage is divided evenly between two locations, the second one is picked by 1d6 dice roll: on 1 to 3, the second location is clockwise from the first location, on 4 to 6 the other half is counterclockwise. On a roll of 9 to 12, the damage is split 100 to the struck location and 50 points each to the adjacent locations. When used against ground locations, the shell has a +1 to-hit penalty but operates differently when resolving damage. Rather than reducing the damage from a strike by 20 percent per hex away from the impact point, the damage is reduced by 10 percent per hex distance. Therefore, the center hex struck takes 2000 points standard damage, the next hex out takes 1800 points, two hexes out takes 1600, and so on. Additionally, the center hex of the targeted zone becomes a two-level crater, and all hexes surrounding the impact point become a level one crater.

Canister Shells: Canister Shells are used to deny whole swaths of space to smaller craft, as their usefulness is rather limited against larger targets. Additionally, the Canister Shell cannot be used in atmospheric attacks, as the shell will not survive reentry, much less the individual pellets. Each time a cluster shell is fired, it will travel a distance as set by the player and detonate, releasing a conical spray of LBX pellets forward from that point. From the detonation point, for each four hexes the blast travels in a line from the firing unit, the pattern of the shot will expand one hex to each side. Therefore, at nine hexes from the detonation point, the width of the attack path is five hexes in the continuing direction of the attack. For every craft caught in the path of the attack, both friend and foe, roll a to-hit attack with a bonus modifier equal to the distance from the detonation point divided by four. If successfully hit, roll out an amount of missile hits as if the craft had been struck by 100 LBX pellets when within 4 hexes, reducing the amount of pellets by ten for each four hexes of linear travel. Check each unit in the line moving progressively farther away from the firing unit and detonation point, and each time a craft is struck subtract the amount of hits it took from a total of 1000 pellets in the canister. Continue checking each unit in the fire path until all ordinance is expended or there are no more targets to check. Note that this shell inflicts 150 points of capital damage if used against a target without detonating it first.

training would


	11. Surviving The Cold Future

(Jokers Wild, Set 1, Chapter 11: Surviving the Cold Future)

"Hey, you! C'mon, we gotta find some cover! They're coming!"

Jillian didn't have a clue who the guy was, but she came up as he waved her forward. Basic infantry weapons and tactics was so long ago for her, she wasn't even sure if she remembered how to arm and use the basic assault rifle any more. She thought she got it right, magazine goes in here until it clicks, then pull the charging handle back...

"Put your safety on, kid, they ain't here yet," a Commander orders of her. "Get behind this crate, peek around the side, and when I say, give 'em hell, got it?"

"Yessir," she replies meekly. This was a far cry from her humdrum duties of paperwork and directing missing people to the right office for their needs. Jachin Due, the final defense of ZAFT, had become a battlefield not by the Earth Alliance, but some completely unheard-of enemies apparently siding with Blue Cosmos in this one. Seventeen, barely able to be legally responsible for herself, not even old enough to go out partying with the older troops, and now she was at hazard of being killed by someone she didn't even know the name of, much less their whims.

"Couple of guys from down below says they're wearing some kind of heavy armor," a Mobile Suit mechanic says. "Says these assault rifles ain't good enough. Doesn't even slow 'em down, he said."

"Not likely," the Commander replies. Jillian could not tell if it was bullshit or not, he sounded gruff and she had known the guy for all of twenty seconds. "I'll admit we don't know shit about these guys, but armor on modern infantry? Not a chance in hell, rifles are too powerful to stop with metallic armor thin enough the poor troops can move."

"You say so," the fifteen-year-old cynic with the light machine gun replies.

Jillian sat and watched, though she wasn't paying attention forward where the enemy was supposed to be coming from. She was watching the others in the little defensive ambush they had set up. Two of them ladies, six men. One of the ladies was a bit younger than she was, probably somewhere around fifteen, maybe sixteen, two of the guys were her age or younger. The Sergeant had to be the oldest, maybe twenty-five at that, the rest were somewhere between her age and that. Not one of them looked calm or happy, most were enervated or even scared of their prospects. If half the rumors that had filtered up was true, these were some serious enemies, and that did not make anyone happy.

The sounds of gunfire echoed back and forth through the halls, the bark of ZAFT automatic weapons against the mixed sounds of many types of weapons—some that even sounded like the 76mm Machine Guns. Every now and again explosions could be heard, sometimes the echo of several explosions in a row—Jillian had no clue what would cause multiple explosions like that, but she knew she did **not** want to find out.

"Steady, people," the Commander orders as everyone cringes to the sound of a large machine gun.

"RUN AWAY!" A ZAFT infantry officer shouts as he bounces off the wall and keeps drifting down the hall. "They're coming! Oh God, one of them just killed a dozen of us with a Gatling gun! You gotta get away! We gotta evacuate!"

"Moron!" the Commander grabs the drifting infantry officer and hauls him down to the deck. "There is no retreat! There is no evacuate! They hold the space around the fortress! You can't go anywhere!"

"But—we can't stop them! Mobile Suits can't stop them! They're too much even for a GuAIZ to deal with! And they're coming right for **us**!"

"They're already here," the cynical younger Mechanic declares. The sound of some kind of maneuvering jet could be heard around the corner dead ahead of them. After a few moments a huge assault rifle poked around the corner, pointing in their direction, then pulled back behind the corner. "What was that about?"

"Camera in the rifle. Grenades!" the Commander pulls a grenade himself, followed by several others. The motions to arm and use a grenade were simple, remove the safety clip, pull the pin, throw it. A flock of the little explosive devices went down the hall toward the enemy's location, some of them even managed to bounce into the hallway where they were. The detonations kicked up a cloud of dust in the area, as well as caused Jillian's hearing to start ringing badly from the sound and pressure.

"Did we get them?" An older lady asks, by her insignia she was a pilot-in-training.

Movement in the dust cloud and the continuing sound of thruster jets did not give Jillian a good feeling about what was to happen. "To whom do I owe the hand grenade?" the voice of a guy asks from inside the dust and debris kicked up from the walls and rock faces. A sound of heavier thruster jets, and the dust gave way to the sight of an ungodly large...something, a curved piece of metal with a set of three triangles on the front of it, one triangle stacked on the apex of two others. Jillian's first thought was that it had to be a unit symbol or organization symbol, maybe?

"Oh my god, it's a huge shield!" an older facilities mechanic shouts. Jillian was not looking at the shield itself, but the massive assault rifle that was resting against the shield on an outcropping, aimed in her general direction. The rifle itself had to be double the frame size compared to hers and at least that in bore size, meaning the weapon wasn't so much a rifle as it was a miniature cannon.

"SHIT!" Forward of where Jillian was hiding behind a metal cargo crate, one of the mechanics opened fire on the approaching nightmare, followed by just about everyone else, including Jillian. Another grenade or two went downrange as well, though these grenades detonated and clearly did nothing meaningful to the oncoming foes.

Again, maneuvering jets slowed their approach (at least three of the large shields could be discerned after the shooting stopped), followed closely by the ad-hoc ambush getting a look at the real nature of their foes as the lead soldier twists his / her left arm outward, exposing the trooper behind the shield. "Come on, kiddies, you expect 30-caliber rifles (1) to do anything to three centimeters of woven diamond and metal composite armor plate?" With the massive assault rifle left to free-float, the freed right thumb of the trooper scraped across the edge of the solid and very thick shield, lending credence to what he said. Just as was foretold, the trooper was wearing huge armor, enough armor that Jillian figured a GuAIZ would really be hard-pressed to defeat it in battle.

Jillian's attention was drawn to a slight motion by the Commander, apparently as he hunkered and took careful aim at—**CRACK**—and Jillian could hear the round careen off walls and other objects as it continued down the hall, though apparently it didn't seem to bother the trooper at all.

"My turn yet?" the trooper asks. Without grabbing for the rifle still free-floating, the trooper simply aimed his right arm at the Commander, and an assembly of some type mounted under the forearm let loose what looked like a controlled, blue lightning bolt that even _sounded_ like a thunder strike. The focused weapon blew apart half the commander's head in that one shot, which immediately stunned Jillian to staring at his lifeless form as it drifted away from the crate. "Now, anyone else?"

_Just like that, one shot with one weapon, and he's...dead_... Jillian couldn't help her body's reaction, she immediately grabbed onto the hand-belt and fled from the scene, trying desperately to get away from the horrid nightmare her job had become. She didn't know why she panicked and fled, just that she had become so terrified that she couldn't remain where she was.

She took a left at a junction to head toward the centerline of the fortress, then took a crew access up three levels, hoping that somehow, someway, the enemy would be stopped down low and she'd never have to see them again. In the higher level, Jillian immediately realized that she didn't have a freaking clue where she was trying to go, or even if she was actively trying to go anywhere but **here**. Desperately she wanted to board a life boat or shuttle and return to the PLANTs, just walk away from it all, but what the now-deceased Commander had to say rang true: if these crazy soldiers had the space around Jachin Due held, there was no escape.

"You, operator!" Someone (a Commander at first look) shouts to get her attention. "Come over here!"

"Sir?" She asks of the commander she approached. More ZAFT soldiers approached her, realizing she had come from down below.

"What's going on down below?"

"Are they really armored?"

"Have they been killing everyone?"

"Can we stop them?"

"Silence!" the Commander shouts over the din of questions. "Let her speak, all of you!"

"Sir, I—I was with about a dozen, machine guns and grenades couldn't stop them. I don't know, I even heard from someone that a GuAIZ couldn't stop them, so I don't know what it would take."

"Don't worry, we have something more than just grenades," the Commander says. "We'll want you to take up a light machine gun, that way a volume of fire might possibly get through, or at least distract them while we use this thing."

"What...is it?" Jillian asks. The device sitting on top of a crate with several metal plates in front of the crate had to be a weapon, but it looked about as unsophisticated as a brick.

"This is a Mark Nineteen automatic grenade launcher. In years past this weapon could be used to take out main battle tanks if used right. Hell, these things are even mildly effective against the Earth Alliance tanks. I don't think they've given their troops more armor than that, right?"

"I don't know, Commander, I don't know if it will work," she replies.

"We also got these," and one of the green-coat ZAFT soldiers holds up a long, slender tube. "Anti-tank rockets. These things will stop a tank and kill the crew inside."

"They have shields," Jillian protests.

"What? Shields—as in sci-fi shields that will stop anything?" the Commander asks.

"No, shields—real metal shields on their left arms. Three centimeters thick, the enemy claimed they were made of woven diamond and a metal composite."

"Not good," one of the greencoats in their group says. "If we can't get a hit on their body, these weapons are useless against them."

"Get ready, regardless," the Commander orders. "We'll take them under fire, and we will have to hope we can defeat their armor."

-x-x-x-

"Joker Trump lead, this is Joker's Ace, requesting status update," Star Admiral Centara orders.

"Ace, this is Trump, I have four in the water and one getting ready to join us. No sharks our vicinity, over."

"Roger that, a shark is about to join you for escort." For Wayne, moving to where the _Dominion_ was deployed and launching the Gundams was a simple task of itself, even given _Mjolnr_ was now pulling away from the _Dominion_ to take position nearby Jachin Due and the myriad of space docks for warships and such. The mechanics of ship movement tended to complicate Mobile Suit launches, but in the relative calm around Jachin Due there was not much hustle and bustle to contend with.

"All forces vicinity enemy superweapon, be advised _Dominion_ is firing Lohengrins," the Operators for the area around Jachin Due caution the mobile forces.

Wayne watched, and reveled in the new power added to his little fleet. The _Dominion_ fired first one Lohengrin into the rear of the almost-ready reflecting mirror, which annihilated the support structure of the mirror and put a massive hole in the surface, then a second blast which swept across the surface of the mirror from one side to the next, finishing what was started with the first blast by chunking it into two odd-shaped halves.

"Command, _Dominion_, enemy weapon is out of action. Now deploying Gundams to escort Trump to final ops point."

"Ace on standby at the rally point," Wayne informs his controller. Four of the five from Trump Element were on station and awaiting the rest of the team arriving, as well as their escorts. The Star Admiral could do naught but shiver at the sight of the machines of Jokers Trump, all five were the much-feared Gundam GP02A, the Physalis of UC 0083 fame. The Mobile Suit that annihilated half of the Earth Federation navy in one stroke. And the Magi used it for pretty much the same purpose.

"Shani Andras, Forbidden, launching!"

"Isis of Joker's Trump, launching!"

Thirty seconds passed, as the two freshly launched from the Dominion closed up on the rally point. "Star Admiral, you out here to supervise, or whoop ass?" Shani asks.

"A little of both, you know," Wayne replies casually. "Magi have no objection to mixing business and pleasure, when you get down to it."

Shani could be heard practically gagging himself in an attempt to avoid laughing outright. The five of Joker's Trump had a few sniggers for the sentiment, but nothing major to add to it. To those soldiers trained for nuclear warfare, this was simply another operation—a case of 'training being bloodless battle, warfare being bloody training' in Roman and later Magi parlance—and everything to them was game face, mission-oriented and ready for battle.

"Clotho Bauer, Raider, Launching!"

"Oruga Sabnak, Calamity, Launching!"

"This it?" Wayne asks after the two pilots close up on the rally point.

"Less than a Binary?" Kingfisher asks in reply. It was obvious that there were less than ten machines there, so... "Yep, we're ready."

"Verify brass balls are locked and loaded, and pray to your Gods for what we are about to do," Cobalt orders.

"One," Kingfisher replies, being an avowed 'neutral' on such subjects.

"Two," Cobalt replies, though she needed not do so since she initiated the call.

"Brass catcher in place. Three, ready," Bane snarks for a few giggles from Clotho or Shani.

"Dear Gods, please help me kick enough ass to stop the nuclear war and no more, thank you." A pause of a moment from Isis, then: "Four, go."

"Five, when the kiddies are done, I'm ready to go," Hellion concludes sarcastically.

"Forbidden, all green," Shani says in his atypical creepy voice that even gave the Star Admiral chills.

"Raider, show ready."

"Calamity, locked and cocked."

"Let's go nuke something," Kingfisher (Star Colonel Tellos) says.

"Raider, you and I have point. Forbidden on the left flank, Calamity to the rear. Let's move, if they have a psionic of their own it won't take them long to find us and bring the world down on us," Wayne orders.

Rearranging the movement order took ten seconds, nothing the nine of them were unaccustomed to. The trek towards the superstructure of the enemy weapon was a bit of a journey, and contrary to the movement of the _Mjolnr_ itself, the team moved slow, in the hopes that the task force not moving around like their asses were on fire would be overlooked, since the 'locals' seemed to have the mindset that speed equaled armor. A mindset that the average among Magi tended to laugh at before blowing them apart to prove otherwise.

"How powerful are those things?" Shani asks, referencing Joker Trump's main weapons.

"They're a dial-a-nuke device, basically. I can run them as low as 100 kilotons, enough to wipe out a small city, all the way up to 250 megatons, or enough to eradicate everything from New York City all the way to Charleston and everything in between." And the kicker: the whole thing was explained matter-of-fact by Hellion, as if he was reporting on the weather, not how much real-estate he could wipe out in one stroke.

"Holy shit, dude, I don't think I want that job now that you mention what you can do," Clotho says. "Too much mass destruction for my taste."

"It takes a kindred, stoic soul to do this job," Kingfisher replies immediately. "On the other hand, riding the shockwave of a nuke, or any other kind of explosion for that matter, is one of the greatest thrill rides money can't buy."

"Whaddya mean 'can't buy'? Explosives aren't cheap, but you can buy them..." Clotho replies.

"You have somewhere to set them off safely?" Cobalt asks. "Didn't think so," she adds after about a half-minute of silence.

"And this is a job you can't buy your way into, even with good grades in school and good commendations on your record. Hell, I have more 'gross misconduct to a superior officer' red cards in my folder than some people will ever have in service awards and rank stripes," Bane explains. "You have to be willing to drop the hammer on anyone to be a NEST soldier, kiddies, and I do mean anyone, friend or foe, civilian or military, political, industrial, commercial, or residential."

"Wait, wait a second! The Code Zellbriggen says that Magi shall never fire upon civilians!" Oruga half-shouts.

"Limited Ragnarok," Star Admiral Centara replies. "If the enemy is a determinate political entity with no clear target structure, or in cases where Magi have suffered mass-destruction attacks that were caused or supported by civilians, then we shall reply in kind. Kingfisher, didn't you do one like that?"

"Aff, Star Admiral, and it's how I know riding the shockwave is fun," he replies deadpan. "The Alteros Incident, kids, look into it after the shooting is done today. Alteros was a fringe, kook world that was effectively Shanghaied by some religious fruits and nuts. We let them have the planet, as they showed a vote not under duress to separate from the Empire. No big deal. Months later, we start getting Cobalt-based nuclear dirty bombs being detonated in neighboring star systems, apparently shipped off Alteros to their 'unholy neighbors' and such. The Commandos traced the cobalt back to the mines on Alteros, and the Division Commander of the Commandos gave them one warning: cease sending dirty bombs out in cargo shipments or you will pay."

"I take it they didn't stop," Shani comments.

"Hell no, they kept shipping them out and detonating them even three months later," Kingfisher replies cynically. "That's when the DCC sent me in, one device with a long-range booster and a release for 100 megatons. I parked it about ninety kilometers out, armed it, and fired. Two minutes later, I was riding the most hellish blast front four thousand meters off the ground with my shield strapped to my Gundam's ass and praying to every God I could think of that I survived the landing. The people of a whole planet voted to poison other worlds with a radioactive isotope of Cobalt for believing in and using technology and wizardry, and I am talking a confirmed, registered vote of 99 percent of the people. I eradicated their four largest cities in one stroke, as well as the main Cobalt mine in question, as clear warning that acting on some beliefs come with too high a price. They got the message loud and clear. The Magi have not heard a peep from them since that firecracker went off. And after I got over the nightmares from riding a nuclear shockwave for fifty kilometers, I ain't lost a whit of sleep over the matter."

"Okay, that's two lessons for the price of one: One, don't fuck with thy neighbors, two, stand well away from the nuke about to be detonated. Thanks, man," Shani notes casually.

"Third, being picked for a NEST team means you one bad motherfucker, if you can annihilate whole cities of religious fucktards and not lose sleep over it," Clotho adds to the list.

"Quick question, Kingfisher," the Star Admiral prompts.

"Hit me, boss-man," he replies in kind.

"You did say it was the Division Commander of the Commandos that sent you in, right?"

"Fuck," Kingfisher replies.

"I thought as much," Wayne says. "How many other Commandos are on my ship?"

"We don't talk, if that's what you're asking, sir."

"Fine, fine, play dumb. I'd prefer knowing who I can call on to do some wet-work when the shit hits the fan, as it inevitably will, but if you don't want to say, I'll just have to guess."

"IP, people," Cobalt says, meaning Initial Point, where things supposedly started going 'live'.

"Enter personal unlock codes and prepare the bazookas," Kingfisher orders.

"Barrels and bombs, barrels and bombs," Hellion half-grumps. He was also the first to unlock the bazooka block and trigger group from his shield. Clotho and Oruga watched as he connected the trigger block to the back end of the Atomic Bazooka, and after the locking the connection-point arrows flashed green. "Hellion reporting ready to shag and slag 'em."

"Kingfisher," said pilot replies, acknowledging he was ready as well. This was followed by "Cobalt," then "Isis" three seconds later, and "Bane" last of all.

"Crap, Star Admiral, we got company," Shani half-shouts. "Half-dozen GuAIZ and one funky-looking one, kinda looks like the Freedom...sorta."

"Shani, Clotho, deal with the GuAIZ, Oruga and I will take on the funky-looking one. Probably a modified ace's machine, double-teaming him in close and at range would be best."

"I read ya," Oruga replies immediately. "Let's see how far I can push this new dual-stage fusion reactor, eh?"

"Go for it. Trump Team, continue to objective."

"We'll have to go through those GuAIZ, and it looks like the wolves are growing thick in between here and there," Kingfisher was referring to a _Laurasia_-class ship that appeared moving to intercept the Joker's Trump team.

"Then do it," Wayne orders. "Approaching contact."

"Attention unidentified Mobile Suits, stand down immediately or you will be fired upon," one of the enemy units orders over the open radio channels, which were deliberately not being jammed open by the Magi.

Wayne figured he could spare them at least a reason why he was about to chainsaw their formation. "I will not stand down until the threat of nuclear omnicide is extinguished, even if that requires I step over your dead bodies to prevent it. Choose your fate, pilot."

The choice of the enemy ace was evident enough fast enough, Wayne's Gundam immediately recognized the deployed rail cannons on its hips as a snap-shot of the beam rifle did not quite come close enough to the Altron to hit it. Four shots of railgun came at Wayne, even accurately so as he was maneuvering, but only two of them made it close enough to be deflected by his shield. "I got this slacker," Oruga says before unloading six rounds of Schlag long-range beam cannon. Four missed, one scraped the outer edge of a leg, one hit the center of the left shin.

"Slacking or lacking he is not," Wayne replies. "Hold range, Calamity, I'll get in close and distract him, then you blow him a new asshole when he isn't looking."

"Roger that," Oruga acknowledges before he slows his close rate to a fraction of what the Star Admiral had. In contrast, the Star Admiral jammed the throttles on his machine to the max, driving his modified Altron Gundam forward toward the enemy at a breakneck pace with an intent of a collision as he set the round shoulder shield forward.

"Fool!" the enemy pilot shouts. "You're predictable!"

"Am I?" Wayne asks in retort, firing off a pair of shots from the tail binder on his Gundam. The shots and the shield charge only forced the enemy up and right, out of the line of fire from Wayne, and on passing Wayne was subjected to a shot in the rear from a beam rifle. One shot of three, and even with it being the same beam rifle as Freedom and Justice carried, it was still not enough to penetrate his armor, though it did disable his tail binder. "Am I so predictable, pilot?"

"Tag," Oruga comments on the same channel. The enemy pilot lost his whole right leg to the Scylla mounted in the Calamity's chest, at the same time as the detachable flier unit still attached to the enemy machine took two beams and three bazooka rounds, tearing it apart from behind. The bazooka rounds did not pass the flier, but the beams went straight through and into the upper back of the machine. "You're it, punk," Oruga completes the thought.

"Ugh, damnit! MOVE!" the sound of his controls slamming the end of their travel was clearly audible over the radio. "And this thing was supposed to be as well armed as Freedom," he finally grumps, having give up on trying to force it to move.

"Firepower, speed, armor, bravery, duty, useless if you can't put them on target with any measure of skill. This is not politics, boy, not politics!" Wayne rebukes and insults the errant enemy pilot all in one phrase, before he moves to rejoin the remainder of the unit. "Unit, status report."

"Zone clear, we're moving forward so fast that _Laurasia_ can't catch up to us. We'll be inside this weapon platform before they can do anything about it, then...well, nothing to it, as they say," Cobalt says boldly. "In fact, Isis, if you will?"

"Gotcha," Isis moves forward of the other four Physalis units, with her right hand on the Nuclear Bazooka and the left carrying a disposable missile launcher rack armed with three of the nigh-terrifying Thunderbolt class twenty missiles—more than enough firepower to tear apart smaller Mobile Suits in one salvo. She aimed forward to a maintenance hatch into the superstructure of the weapon, fired all three missiles in series, and tossed aside the launcher. The first missile struck off, missing the door by a mere meter, but even still buckled it. The second struck dead-on, tearing the door apart and releasing half of it to free-float. The third missile struck the remnant of the door and loosed it into the hallway behind.

"Charge in!" Hellion shouts, suiting actions to words as his shield comes forward.

"LEEEEERRRRROOOOOOYYYYYY!" Cobalt shouts as she became the first Magi Gundam pilot to enter the weapon.

"JJJEEEEEEENNNNKKKKIIIIINNNNNSSSSS!" Shani finishes up the inevitable radio taunt, made all the more ironic since ZAFT had no nearby assets to even try to stop their suicide charge.

"Yee-haw, bitches!" Kingfisher declares when they get into the hollow innards of the machine. "The Verminators are in the house, and all rat bastard weapons will be terminated! So sayeth the Star Admiral, so shall it be!"

"How we gonna do this, boss?" Hellion asks, looking around the endoskeleton of the weapon for any obvious weaknesses.

"Sixty seconds from all five armed, one on the breech pipe, one on the feed, two on the reactor, and one on the front reflector. Fire when ready."

The five pilots each sight up a good placement for their device, though they ended up firing in two pairs and a single, each taking their time to ensure good placement. All five pilots got what they were aiming for, and with that the whole unit left the way they came. Wayne was the last out, sparing a look at the nearest of the devices, but not much of a look. Sixty seconds was not a long time to dawdle in the presence of antimatter weapons.

-x-

Each device was not a rocket or missile, per se, but rather a limpet mine, designed to attach to a target and wait for its timer to elapse before detonating. This delay could be less than 100 milliseconds all the way to three years before detonation. With the impact of the device that had the farthest travel time, the one headed for the reflector dish at the far end of the superstructure, the five devices synchronized their counters and began the sixty seconds to imminent blast.

"Raid warning, raid warning, raid warning! All personnel be advised fifty seconds to antimatter detonation at ZAFT superweapon! Repeat, antimatter detonation at ZAFT superweapon! 45 seconds!"

"About damn time," Gerald declares coldly. "Kingfisher, you puke, what took you so long?"

"Kiss my ass, old man," said pilot replies. "My Physalis isn't as cracked out as your Neue Ziel or even your Physalis Heavy Weps."

"Nuke-Jocks, no respect for the rest of us getting our asses shot off out here in the furball," Kika adds to the conversation.

"Jet-Jocks, no respect for the delicate touch needed to use antimatter weapons to their fullest," Isis replies in kind.

"Getting a little corny on the comms, are we not?" Star Admiral Centara requests to silence the two of them.

"Aff, sir, just getting around to enjoying it," Kika replies immediately. "Fifteen seconds! Oh, I so love antimatter fireworks, the blast always comes out silver-blue..."

"This one isn't going to be a prototypical blast, Kika," Gerald replies. "You will see some blast, but not a lot. Watch," he orders before the radios provide a triple-blast of warning klaxon.

The detonation of 500 megatons worth of antimatter provided a hellish sight to behold for ZAFT, the Earth Alliance, and even the Three Ships. Immediately, the off-center placement of two of the devices caused the superstructure to begin lazily yawing around its axis, as the detonation of the remainder did purely structural damage. The forward blast against the reflector dish caused the whole dish itself to ripple and warp, therein making the weapon never usable again by contorting the structural members and the parabola. The breech block itself was injected with several units of pure antimatter, truly annihilating it at a molecular level and sundering a good portion of the barrel by translated shockwave inside the metals alone. The cartridge feed was completely unprotected from such energy and blast, and the device applied to it trashed the whole feed and the ready cartridges for the weapon itself. The last to lose it was the weapon's reactor and nearby structure, having two devices tasked to it ensured complete annihilation and plenty of translated trauma to the exoskeleton of the weapon.

Outside the weapon, the view of the kill itself was surreal. Gerald summed it up as best as any witness could: "Like the hands of an angry titan tearing the damned thing apart, strip by strip by strip." he says. The side walls of the cylinder body had peeled apart from the blast shockwave ripping through the superstructure, the forward (reflector) and rear (reactor) section themselves ejected from the rest of the frame somewhat intact. Without a doubt, ZAFT's nuclear gambit was done.

_NOOOOOO_! Someone shouts on the telepathic plane. Gerald could tell that he was the only one to hear it, maybe Kika, but not most normal pilots. He also vaguely recognized the mental voice as being that of the stray pilot from outside Mendel that had been chewed up by Marines and finished off by Gerald.

"Time to get back to work," Gerald says. He knew the voice and knew he would have to track him down soon enough.

-x-x-x-

Jillian found herself fleeing the enemy onslaught once again.

This time, it had been something patently impossible as far as she was concerned. She had her doubts about the enemy's ability to resist an anti-tank missile, but they had withstood those weapons just as readily as they had the assault rifles and light machine guns. Sure, one of the armored enemy took an AT rocket in the face, which appeared to have killed that trooper; the other four took several hits in the shield and even one in the shoulder, and they were still going strong. Strong enough, even, that one of the troopers returned fire on the automatic grenade launcher with their large assault rifle, a horrendous sight and sound as five rounds of the weapon's fire shredded the grenade launcher and the soldier behind it. Jillian could now make the disgusting claim that she had seen a human body torn to pieces by weapons fire, and the thought of it sickened her to the point of vomiting.

This time, she knew she had moved farther 'up' in the Jachin Due structure than she almost ever went—she had passed through the 'west' side of the upper hangar area for Mobile Suits. There were only a few GINN, DINN, and one CGUE unit in the hangar, and no evidence of pilots for any of them anywhere. It was evidence enough that ZAFT was suffering a manpower problem, in addition to being undercut by declining birth rates among Coordinators in the PLANTs. And if this unit of armored nightmares was really a special action group of the Earth Alliance, this would be the death knell of the Coordinators, as far as she could tell.

Her trek up and away from the armored menace continued with another two levels ascension before she came to another group set up in a defensive ambush position. This one was marginally different, however, in that someone had creatively maneuvered part of a GINN torso armor plate into place to guard the defenders against enemy resistance. The soldiers behind it—more actual ground soldiers than mechanics, this time—waved her forward to a Commander that was at the back of their formation, though there were more than a few of the Mark 19 grenade launchers and almost everyone had an anti-tank rocket with spares nearby.

"Sir?" she asks when she approaches.

"Has anyone managed to stop even a single of these Marines?" he asks plainly.

"Yes, sir, an anti-tank rocket to the head killed one, but that's all I've seen so far. Just one."

"Totally different, just totally different," the other Commander at the blockade says. "If you want to stay, take cover, otherwise keep going."

"Too late!" One of the Marines could be seen about thirty meters ahead of the ambush, having just entered the theoretical engagement zone.

"Surrender your arms, ZAFT infantry! This battle is pointless!" their lead soldier demands, though the state of her shield suggested that slowly, they were taking damage.

"I'll give you pointless! Open fire!" All fire centered on the forward trooper of the minimum five Armored Marines that were in their field of fire. Through the dust and blasts, Jillian could see the enemy trooper holding her position despite the bucking shield from all the impacts and explosions. Part of her shield even fractured and broke off from grenade rounds, the assault was that ferocious. For a moment, Jillian held out hope that somewhere, somehow, these Marines could be defeated...

The enemy behind her changed the dynamic quickly enough, reversing the flow of battle with a single, simple weapon. Jillian could recognize the difference between a shotgun and a rifle, and this one was a shotgun. A large, double-barreled magazine-fed shotgun. Each shot was hard to distinguish from the sounds of rockets and the automatic grenade launchers, but each shot she could tell happened as it tore apart the various gunners on her side. The ammunition they were using resembled darts, each dart easily penetrating the standard body armor that would stop the assault rifle rounds cold, dozens of darts per shot. In mere seconds after the Marines opened fire, the only remaining enemies with weapons were assault rifles, hardly a serious threat, as well as Jillian, who had not fired a shot at all from her place of cover.

The lead solider moved forward to the armor barrier, draw a miniature beam saber, and began chopping through the armor to clear a path for the taller Marines. Jillian wasted no time hiding any more, she simply fled again, floating over the dead bodies of both commanders and three regulars to get away from the demons in armor that plagued her relentlessly. They left no real wounded, she had realized; if they took a shot, it was usually enough to kill first time every time. It was horrid, seeing the look in the eyes of the soldier across the hall from her, the fear and anxiety of knowing he would be captured by these ruthless soldiers, and not knowing what his inevitable fate would be. She could no longer stand it.

Jillian fled again, this time looking for the next access path upwards. She found it three corridors down, as well as a horrifying realization: the Marines had captured the central access shafts, no longer using the secondary or emergency access routes. They had free run of Jachin Due and there really was nowhere to flee to.

"I—I can't do it any more!" Jillian shouts, the past half-hour of emotions finally catching up to her and taking their necessary toll. She stops herself in the middle of the corridor to the central access shaft, hunkers down to the wall, draws her knees up to her chest, and simply hovers there, sobbing. Overwhelmed with terror and anxiety, she could push herself no farther; this was not what she wanted for her life, especially coming from what was supposed to be a stable, safe, noncombat administrative job for ZAFT.

She knew not how long she had been sobbing, but she knew when she was no longer alone. The sound of the thrusters nearby was the giveaway. "Too much for her?" a lady asks.

"We are Armored Marines, after all. We're supposed to scare the piss out of our foes, especially in the first skirmish." This lady sounded a bit younger, and had a wildly different accent from the first.

"You injured, kid?" Jillian ventured a glance at the Marines, and the one immediately in front of her was wildly different from the ones she had been chased by all day. There was only a small shield on the soldier's left shoulder, though in gross compensation for the lack of defense the Marine was carrying an absolutely massive sniper rifle, in addition to an array of smaller weapons.

"Oh sweet Jesus," Jillian grumps, looking directly at the muzzle brake of the rifle.

"Don't worry, you're too small to use one of these on," the Marine replies immediately. "Are you injured?"

"No," Jillian replies, looking down toward her knees again. "Just...scared."

"Combat does that to all of us, kid," a third lady among the Marines declares. "No shame in it. Can you stand?"

"Yeah, I can." After a few moments, she stands up, and realizes that the Marines were only on average marginally taller than she was, excluding their armor attachments that made them look massive and frightening.

"Join your comrades headed down to holding. You will not be harmed." The sniper points to the column of ZAFT personnel, both regulars and fighters, headed down into the bowels of the station.

"Right," Jillian grabs the hand-belt and moves to join the defeated and captured. She was that close, an arm's reach, and yet they didn't even point a gun at her. Something didn't add up, in her mind.

-x-x-x-

"Conn, Sensors, looks like ZAFT's rear echelon of ships have taken objection to our blockade of Jachin Due."

"Numbers?" Commander Ward orders of the Sensors pukes.

"I show fourteen _Nazca_-class, nine _Laurasia_-class, and a couple different estimates on the mobile compliments."

"So, the kittens have finally found their claws," Commander Ward muses, inadvertently quoting a long-deceased Jade Falcon Star Colonel without even realizing it. "Flight Control, deploy aerofighters. Fire control, you are released to turn those ships into scrap if they shoot at us. If they are simply running and not interested in hostility, leave them be."

"Conn, sensors, little question about that, I show laser designators tracking the ship at this time. Enemy preparing to fire on us!"

"Allow them," Glennaste Ward replies coldly. "The armor on this ship weighs as much as half of their ship's total mass. Let them hammer on it as hard as they want, while we sunder their ships out from under them. Arsenal, begin fire per prior restriction."

"Aff, sir, I have four _Laurasia_-class and two _Nazca_-class charging weapons now. They should be firing momentarily," and true to their word, the ZAFT ships fired in series, as each closed enough to be within ZAFT's 'acceptable' naval firing ranges. Even being that close, though, only a third of their shots struck the _Mjolnr_, which caused some amount of laughing on the part of the gunnery officers. "This is pathetic! I can score at least seventy at this range!"

"Be that as it may, Ensign," Commander Ward begins; "I expect you to prove it. Like, right now, prove it."

"Aye, sir," the Ensign puts actions to his braggadocio, releasing a pattern of fire commands to the guns under his direction literally as the aerofighters launched from the ship. The commands were all released to the guns by the individual fire director for each battery, since there was nothing obviously wrong with the patterns and commands, and the shots were laid out.

-x-

Captain Gladys watched carefully the streaks of green beams headed outbound from the other ships in the assault, seeing where the pattern was centered and how to correct it to get more hits on the massive enemy warship. The first volley was unimpressive, about one hit in three shots, though it was centered on the rear of the ship, not behind the ship as she had feared. The closer the ZAFT ships approached, the better the gunnery would inevitably be.

The insignia on the ship matched nothing of the Earth Alliance whatsoever, and the fact that their forces were siding with neutral terrorists that attacked both the EA and ZAFT meant that these were neutral parties of some fashion. The one thing that irked her severely is the thought that some neutral, unknown faction had a ship far larger than anything that could be reasonably produced by even the Earth Alliance. Not to mention, the smallest of the six escort ships was just slightly less than four times larger than a _Laurasia_-class ship.

"Weapons, hold fire," she orders as they cross the firing threshold. "I want to get in close, snap several shots off, then turn and run as fast as possible. If we stand off against that monster, we are dead meat."

"Captain, major thermal spike in the enemy ship! Appears to be launching...err, fighters?"

"Fighters? Pathetic," Talia immediately grouses, making the assumption that practically any fighter would be less than effective when compared to a Mobile Suit, based on Earth Alliance fighter designs. "Do not track or fire on them, I want to get in close first."

"Captain!" the XO shouts, mostly gaping over the response from the enemy Warship. The streak of some blue energy weapon was accompanied by tracers from some kind of naval-scale machine cannon, and even the silhouette of some rather large and fast capital missiles fired from static silos in the side of the ship. Actual solid-beam capital-size lasers from the forward section of the ship joined more missiles from that bearing, with more laser clusters and missiles from the rear quarter coming in last on target. Each weapon slashed mercilessly into the ships with few misses from the enemy gunners. By far the most damaging of the attacks came from the machine cannons being used, with such damage that a pair of the tracer groups walked across the fore of a _Laurasia_ running parallel to her ship completely stripped off the armor and flayed into the reinforced internal structure of the ship itself. To say nothing of the multiple massive missiles that followed the burst of cannon in, which only compounded the damage to the ship.

"Fighters closing, enemy launch multiple missiles!" Watching on the magnified optics, Talia could see each fighter loose four missiles of a very large cross-section compared to Earth Alliance missile weapons. "No Radar or laser designator homing systems detected! They dead-fired on us!"

Talia was silent for a moment, watching the sensor plots of the missiles incoming. "Shut off our Neutron Jammer," she orders.

"Captain?" the XO asks.

"Do it! NOW!" She shouts immediately in reply. The Sensor officer immediately snaps the switch for the N-Jammer to the off position.

"Captain, I request an explanation!" the XO exclaims. "You just made this ship vulnerable to radar!"

"Those missiles are passive home-on-jam and home-on-electronic-emission weapons. It's an old technology, but the weapons won't care, all they will see is a jamming system and target it."

"Missiles approaching, five seconds! Four, three, two, one, impact!"

Two of the missiles passed extremely close to the ship but none contacted, instead seeking out the _Nazca_-class directly aft of the _Fermi._

"Captain, how did you...?" the XO lets his sentence peter off.

"Ancient history, Commander," Talia replies immediately. "They use every tactic in the book, even tactics that we deem 'outdated' because of our all-important mobile suits and N-Jammers and Coordinator enhancements. We have to think in the past to understand...oh shit, break off, do not designate the enemy ship!"

"Too late!" the Weps officer had designated the ship as he was ordered to, when they had closed much closer.

"Helm, hard to starboard, flanking speed on the engines! Run parallel to their ship, keep the throttle down and don't let up!"

"Captain, I show active radar, tight beam X-band guidance radars, do not match any known Earth Alliance sensor systems, bands, or repetition rates!"

"Oh shit!" The XO shouts. "Missile launches, enemy warship! Five—no ten—no, fifteen launches! Headed right for us!"

"Go to automatic on CIWS! Launch flares, chaff, helm down pitch angle thirty degrees, emergency power!"

"Too late! We're gonna take hits!" the observer at the bridge window shouts before backing off the magnifier and grabbing her emergency 'Jesus' handles.

"Three seconds;" Captain Gladys slammed the collision warning alarm, which echoed throughout the ship unmistakably even as the sensors officer counted down: "Two, one, impact!"

The impacts of missiles caused Captain Gladys to slam sideways into the side of her command chair, then recoil back into the other side from pure inertia, a combination that hurt severely to her. Her ribs took a beating, as well as her left shoulder and right wrist. It was all she could do to maintain composure, much less pay attention to outside the ship...

"Captain, look!" the XO shouts, pointing out the window to a a group of GuAIZ from another ship...

-x-

"Ace sixteen, be advised we have a cluster of enemy MS attempting to move on what appears to be our cargo Dropship dock points. Intercept and eliminate threat."

"Ace sixteen, roger that, committing in now. 'Porter,' you with me?"

"Roger that, 'Helm,' I'm in. Count six marks at ten high. Three each sound right?"

"Easy prey," 'Porter' (Ace element, pilot seventeen) replies. "This 135-millie wants some."

"Time to feed the need, brother," 'Helm' says. "Tally ho! Engaging targets now!"

The GuAIZ unit shot first, nothing spectacular to the elite Fireball pilots that were bearing in on them, and even two hits before the two fighters rotated on the yaw axis to snap their shots off with an appropriate lead factor. Ace Sixteen led off the attack, and with the much-respected 'A' configuration weapons pods, dumped four ER Large Lasers and two Medium Pulse Lasers into two different targets, striking the third with guided space intercept missiles. Unlike their contemporaries in the Earth Alliance, these missiles did not rely on laser designators, they guided themselves by counter-ECM and counter-emissions, and also unlike the missiles favored by the Alliance, the SCAMRAAM (2) missile was more maneuverable than the foes it targeted. He ended the battle with two crippled machines and one significantly damaged.

Ace Seventeen, an avowed close-quarters specialist, followed in formation with his wingmate by flying in one direction and shooting in another to confuse the enemy gunners. It worked somewhat, but not enough to annul any hits; he took two beam hits directly and one at a glance, not enough to breach his armor in any significant fashion. What he gave was worse for the enemy, splitting his fire between three as did his teammate. Missiles and the monster 135mm autocannon on one machine, the three lasers and Streak LRM-10s to a second, and straight missiles to a third target. The hits were less prolific than he expected, the first target dodged both bursts of the Ultra AC/20, but not the missiles, his right-wing Streak-10 failed to lock on and never fired, and two missiles went erratic (bad guidance), but all in all what he used managed to destroy one and severely damage two.

"Control, Ace Sixteen, enemy forces intercepted, surviving MS are retreating. Zone clear, ready for next op—HOLY SHIT! EJECTING!" the pilot punches out after his right wing and part of the fuselage of his fighter was blown off by a very lucky Naval Beam Cannon hit.

"Control, Ace Seventeen, Sixteen punched out clean, he was wiped out by a _Nazca_-class, engaging ship now!"

"Roger that, open engagement at this time," the Controller orders.

It was the work of several seconds for 'Porter' to reverse his velocity, but the Fireball's massive TelStar 400XL engine was more than adequate to the task. As the Fireball came to an effective complete stop, he came under fire again from a stray GuAIZ paired with a GINN, though neither of the enemy machines were expecting him to be able to track and fire on them with missiles from the side. Two SCAMRAAM missiles launched forward, quickly reoriented themselves to the tracking point designated by the pilot, determined there were threat units in the designated area, and fired main engines to accelerate hard. The GuAIZ got away with losing part of its shield in the strike, the GINN fared worse in that it lost its hips and both legs from the dead-on impact and detonation of the missile. Before a re-engagement could be orchestrated by the GuAIZ, the Fireball was on the move toward the _Nazca_-class that had crippled his wingmate.

"HOW DO YOU LIKE THIS ONE, BITCHES?" Ace Seventeen shouts as he ripple-fired his remaining AGM-84SC Harpoon anti-shipping missiles into the side of the enemy ship. The enemy CIWS was able to intercept one of the nine missiles, the other eight all struck the ship in various locations from the engine block forward to the main beam cannons, as they were designed to avoid missile fratricide by spreading around the target when used in an alpha strike method (3). As he passed over the ship, 'Porter' took care to give the captain of the ship a clear warning that his or her actions were not appreciated, firing every weapon on his craft into the _Nazca_-class ship _Fermi_, the autocannon alone tearing significant rents in the armor of the craft augmented by ER Medium Laser and Streak LRM 10 missile salvos.

"Seventeen from Four, that ship you just whomped fired off surrender flares, she's throwing in the towel for today. Form up on my point, we're going hunting for Earth Alliance pricks now."

"Roger that," Seventeen replies immediately. A recovery shuttle or Mobile Suit would recover the ejection pod from Sixteen.

-x-

Talia knew she had pissed herself, she had been that scared to see the surviving fighter reorient on her ship and launch torpedoes capable of tearing massive chunks out of armor and structure. Practically every weapon on the starboard facing of her ship was destroyed, there were at least three fires inside the hull, her targeting system was offline, and her sensors were grossly degraded. More to the point, the fighter had even strafed her ship with its anti-MS weapons, and each weapon itself tore chunks out of the ship beyond her wildest imagination. _Never again_, she swore mentally, _never again will I underestimate fighters in my lifetime_.

"That thing—it took hits from beam weapons and kept fighting!" the XO says as the fighter forms up on two others, headed in the direction of the Earth Alliance lines.

"Whatever they are, those fighters are extremely dangerous," Talia says. "Two of them are the better of over six GuAIZ mobile suits and a Warship. We got lucky, hitting that one with a naval beam cannon, and that's what it took to bring it down."

"The pilot ejected, and we're approaching his pod, Captain," the ship's helmswoman declares.

"XO, organize a team to recover the pilot. I want to talk to him." _I want to know who—what—why they are_, she thinks in series.

-x-x-x-

"Another job-sitter, hired in for her administrative talents and not much else," Victoria passes judgment on the whelp they had found sobbing in a side hallway within sight to the central shaft.

"Seems to be about eighty percent of ZAFT's personnel," Helga says. "The other twenty have heart, but not enough battle skill or proper equipment to challenge us."

"It will not be long before they come up with some rudimentary threat to our infantry superiority," Elisa declares coldly. "Marines heading up the shaft! Make a hole!" she orders of the swarm of ZAFT captives. Immediately the people squash to the inside of the stairwell, giving the Marines just barely enough clearance to get moving up the stair shaft. "Command from 3-Alpha-11, come back," Elisa requests on the command channel (4).

"Go," the Galaxy Commander orders.

"Where do you want your pain-in-the-ass sniper and escorts, sir?"

"Oh, you," Galaxy Commander Michaels grouses, knowing quite well who he was dealing with. The one Sniper that had inadvertently managed to point an Armor Sniper Rifle at Commander Waltfeld. Lacus Clyne had delivered some choice words about that matter, as well as pined for her missing Haro, though even the AI entity claimed no knowledge of its fate. "Get your ass up to level 25 and have at it. They're starting to get creative with IED weapons and anti-tank capabilities, honestly I'm surprised this station has as much as they do."

"Crazy prepared?" Karen asks

"Probably dug deep in their outgoing material warehouses to use it on us," the Galaxy Commander replies. "Take one of them alive and squeeze the location of their armory out of them."

"Aff, sir, 3-Alpha-11 moving now."

The trek up to level 25 was a short haul for the team, given that they were already close to the front wave of the assault. Out in the corridors, the team moved with purpose toward the sound of heavy weapons fire, though given that there were casualties being taken all over the level, the team moved in assault formation even in supposed secure areas.

"Oh, you five," one of the Marines near the most intense fighting says with a tone of clearly-feigned disdain.

"Hey, it's Wonder Cho!" Diane half-shouts over the radio band, referring to Cho Eglin, one of the few bloodnamed Marines in the unit. "Where's the rest of your team?"

Said Marine remained silent for ten seconds. "No way, you mean—even Walt?" Karen asks.

"Yeah," Cho replies icily. "RPG to the side of the helmet. Not much left of his head."

"What do we have?" Elisa asks, drawing attention away from fallen comrades and back to the battle at hand.

"Two-part blockade with the smart, surviving assholes of the lower levels. The ones that learned real fast how to use RPGs and LAWS properly." Three detonations in series against the wall to their left sent spall ricocheting all over the place, though this was less than a threat to the Marines. "And automatic grenade launchers for good measure."

"Karen, cluster-fuck 'em," Elisa orders.

"Roger that," Karen says as she loosed her Panzersturmgewehr (Armor Assault Rifle) to free-float, and with the free hand pulled a discus-like object with an attached handle off the inside of her shield. "Cluster out!" she shouts before she pulled the arming pin and tossed it around the corner. Everyone waited the obligatory four seconds before hearing first the initial discharge of the submunitions, which itself caused a momentary scream from a lady on the other side of the battle, then a second later the detonation of the submunitions in one very loud cacophony of explosives, with fragments even reflecting off walls near Elisa's Marines.

"Goin' for it!" Elisa says before she jumped off into the hallway where the enemy fire had been coming from. As she proceeded down the hall, her Armor Sniper Rifle stood at the ready, with Elisa waiting for an opportunity to take a shot even as it became obvious Karen's throw had been dead-on and killed or maimed the entire ambush. "Clear zone! Move up!"

"Moving now!" Helga was the first around the corner after her Point Commander, with Cho a pace behind her and the rest of the team following close behind. Much to Elisa's original estimation, the cluster-grenade Karen used was fatal or lethal to everyone in the blockade point, those few that actively survived did not look like they would survive long without medical treatment. "Medics to my location, mark as point Mike-131, possible fatals but maybe you can do something for them."

"Roger that, 3-Alpha-11, medics moving at this time."

"Frightened, powless (5), unsure who we are or why we have come, they fight desperately to end the threat. It is such a pity we have to bring them down," Cho says. "They have balls, too bad their leadership cannot be redeemed."

"Stack," Elisa orders, meaning the intersection they were approaching. "They should have the morals to know what their masters are doing with that big-ass nuclear laser, and stop him from using it."

"The same can be said of the Earth Alliance and their nuclear weapons," Cho replies in kind.

"It has been said, which is why they are getting an unholy beat-down as well," Helga replies. "Stacked."

"Jump off," she orders. In the moments following her order, Helga and Diane went forward and right, the likely heaviest threat area by encounter zones seen on C3, and encountered only an empty hallway. At the same time, Karen and Victoria jumped left, the 'weak side' relative to estimated threat, and encountered a squad of personnel barely three meters down the hall.

"HOLY SHIT!" the enemy point-man shouts, expecting something but definitely not a heavily-armed and -armored trooper behind a massive shield.

"Drop your weapons! Now!" Victoria shouts immediately thereafter, her preferred close-quarters weapon centered on the lead. The enemy did not take long to realize they were looking down the muzzle of a double-barreled large-bore shotgun with an attached bayonet.

"Oh shit! I surrender!" the point-man, as well as the three behind him, immediately drops aside his assault rifle and throws his arms up.

"Rest of you, loose your weapons and hands above your heads! I'm not gonna order you again!" Victoria declares. They did as ordered reasonably fast, not provoking the lady with the big gun. "Boss-lady, squad of eight plus one non-com, all smart enough," she says.

"Victoria, Karen, forward and disarm tangos, Cho, flanking cover on tangos. Helga, Diane, cover right," Elisa orders rapid-fire and all on her external speakers to make sure the enemy knew what they were facing.

"What's going on here? Who are you maniacs?"

Victoria centered her shotgun on the lady that was floating separate of the soldiers and had challenged them. "You, hands up and where I can see them! Now!"

"What is this? I'm a member ZAFT's diplomats! I demand to know who you are!"

"Honey, you don't start following directions, you'll be arguing your case to four ounces of lead shot heading **through you** at high speed. I'm not going to put up with the bullshit all day, I have a war to fight. Now put your hands up before I have cause to hamburger your ass."

"I—what is this?" she asks in a lot less demanding fashion, and did put her hands up as ordered.

"All of you against the port-side wall, hands against the wall, no sudden moves. Do it now," Cho orders calmly, her 100mm upper arm-mount autocannon clearly aiming through the bulk of them. As they moved to the ordered arrangement, the two Marines moved forward and individually stripped the weapons off each ZAFT soldier, until the worst they had was a pocket knife or multi-tool, certainly not a serious weapon for combating a Marine.

"Listen, I'm a ZAFT high-ranking official," the lady the soldiers were escorting says. "I can stop this war if I can get to the force control room on this level. I have authorization from the Supreme Council to arrest the Chairman and request a cease-fire—"

"I just said I don't really care who you are, in so many words. If you're dumb enough to—" Victoria begins, but is cut off by her Commander:

"Hold, Victoria," Elisa orders. "Command, 3-Alpha-11, I have a tango captured my location who says she has authorization from ZAFT command structure to arrest the Chairman and request a cease-fire accord, requesting quick-ref."

"Stand by, secure location and await arrival, I am coming your way now. ETA 30 seconds."

"Aff, Galaxy Commander, area is secured at this time."

"What are you? Who are you?" the lady asks.

"Marines, stranded a long way from home and in a foul mood," Karen says. "And what happens when we park it here for a few? The local greenhorns start nuking each other. How pointless can you people get?"

"Enough, Karen, there will be plenty of busting of thy chops after the shooting is over, save it for then," Elisa orders. "Short answer, ma'am, we are a patrol ship from a government you have never heard of or dealt with, marooned in this star system with no practical way to fix our ship while the war continues. And, suffice it to say we do not like watching nuclear omnicide play out in front of us."

"Is that why your forces destroyed GENESIS?"

"GENESIS? Your large nuclear laser?" she nods, still with her hands against the wall.

"Aff, that is precisely why we destroyed GENESIS." The speaker in question was a guy's voice, though the lady noticed he was wearing the same type of armor as the six that had captured her. "The PLANTs are not self-sufficient, by our estimates and intel. You render Terra inhabitable, you kill yourselves slowly and cut off our chance for going home. The Earth Alliance nukes the PLANTs, they turn several stationary objects into several dangerous falling objects that eventually annihilate all meaningful life on Terra. Either way, everyone is screwed in due time, so we invoke a third option. I am Galaxy Commander Carlos Michaels, force commander of the Marines and fifth-in-command de facto of the fleet. You are?"

"Acting Chairwoman Eileen Canaver, ZAFT Supreme Council. I have orders to detain Chairman Zala and offer a cease-fire before the PLANTs are involved in the battle."

"Understood," Carlos replies. "I don't need much motivation to end the shooting, at least in part. Eleven of third, advance to point, we take the CIC and end this segment of the battle."

-x-x-x-

Dearka could never really remember seeing so much carnage generated so quickly in his life, with the possible exception of Junius Seven. Even then, this battle was shaping up to match that bloodbath in scale real fast. The problem was not the fact that people were being knocked off by the dozen, the problem was that there were few, if any, non-fatal casualties. The Magi weapon systems were simply just too powerful to avoid catastrophically killing everything they shot at. And it didn't help that Magi mobile army training precluded taking a deliberately non-lethal shot in most circumstances.

"This is nuts," Dearka says on the Archangel controller frequency, which is one not normally monitored by the Magi. "They kill everything in their path with frightening ease."

"Born and raised to be soldiers, an Empire that gives birth to thousands of babies an hour from artificial wombs, yet they say they are all about freedom and life," Miriallia says. "There is something...I don't want to say it is wrong, but I don't want to say it is right, either. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Dearka replies. "They're...just totally different," he concludes, making the final leap of mindset from suspiciously silent to outward hostility without realizing it. "Whoa," he grunts after a moment, watching a half-dozen Earth Alliance contacts disappear off his targeting array, silenced by the Elmeth Mobile Armor assigned to Diamond Element.

"Did they...just wipe out—ah, no they just got a _dozen_ Earth Alliance machines in fifteen seconds," she revises her tally up from the half-dozen Dearka thought they had done.

"Huh?" Dearka was no longer paying attention to the hijinks of Diamond Element, there was movement nearby the _Archangel_. "Command, I have a _300-Meter_ class ship in our area, looks like it's getting ready to launch units."

"Roger that, engage it at will," Miriallia relays from the Captain.

"Moving now," Dearka replies. The Strike closes up on him to join in bringing down the last possible Earth Alliance nuclear weapons carrier, of which they had found out fast that the _Agamemnon_-class ships were the ones carrying the nuclear strike force, making them an instant priority target. "What do you think, Commander? About the Magi, I mean."

"I'm trying not to think about it. Remember, they have a Strategic Psionic," Mu replies immediately.

"Oh, shit," Dearka groans. He **had** forgotten about her.

-x-

"It would appear the _Archangel_ doesn't like us pretty much at all, any more," Calamira says to Commander Ward. "Cagalli and Colonel Kisaka are the exception from the Three Ships, the rest, well..." her statement trailed off.

"Unsurprising," Commander Ward replies. "They were reluctant partners at best, never really trusting us, never really distrusting us. Now that they have seen Magi steel in real combat, they trust us even less than before."

"Right," Calamira replies.

The two officers were silent for a few moments, Calamira keeping a close scry on the evolving action by the Three Ships. "Should we, erm," again she could not complete her thought vocally.

"Let them be, Calamira. We are part of a wildly different ethos from they, and fool would it be to try and meld ourselves into their way of thinking—or force our thoughts onto them. We shall simply have to earn their trust with honor and integrity, two things strangely enough lacking in these reaches of space."

"The Junk Guild is certainly not lacking such," Calamira replies immediately.

"The Junk Guild are the roaring exceptions to such principle, in that they live on principle. The hands among ZAFT and the Earth Alliance, at least in their leadership, are racist demagogues incapable of thinking more than a meter in front of them. We are required to tread in their presence, much as I would prefer to call down the thunder upon them all, we cannot simply hammer them until they play nice. Today we win on the field of battle to establish our legitimacy, tomorrow we play again at the negotiating table."

"Right, I hope the Star Admiral has a good plan for that," Calamira says offhand. "He shall need it."

"Oh, he does, Strategic Officer. He does," Commander Ward replies.

"Erm, Commander, something is not right about that _Agamemnon_-class. It's launching midget mobile armors, but they're doing something else on the ship..."

-x-

"What is that ship doing?" Mu asks, focusing on it between taking down the nuclear-armed Moebius armors.

"I don't know, it's acting weird," Dearka replies. "Should we call in some help?" He was referring to the nearby warship _Byzantine_, one of the _Sendai_-class escort monitors to the _Mjolnr_.

"No, we'll do it," Mu replies, wanting to minimize the involvement of the Magi in the battle as much as possible. "_Archangel_, can you take a shot?"

"Negative, Commander, we're out of range for another minute and a half."

"Dearka, you're it—whoa, shit!" Mu shouts, having seen something he never really thought possible.

The _Agamemnon_-class ship had pitched down the bow enough to align two load bays for the nuclear missiles on a direct fire course for the PLANTs, given that the load tubes were angled strange through the ship. When aligned, the ship opened the tubes and launched two missiles, then ejected the spent missile cartridges into space; Mu could only guess that the deck crew was furiously busy reloading for another shot.

"I got it," Dearka declares, linking his weapons into sniper rifle configuration. He tracks the first missile, leads it, and squeezes off the shot. A bare moment after the shot was loosed, the missile ignited a secondary motor and booster assembly, driving it forward so fast that his shot missed the rear of the missile by a mere half-meter. The second missile fired its boosters moments later, precluding shooting it down in the same fashion. "DAMN! They both snaked us!"

"_Hyperion_ has them," Miriallia says. The large Monitor was moving away from the battle lines and toward the missile flight path. "Take out the ship before it launches any more," she orders.

"Roger that," Dearka turns his massive beam rifle on the ship, targets the exposed bridge, and taps the trigger. True to his aim, the round penetrated through the ship from bridge to innards with little hesitation, taking it out fo action as a viable weapons platform. "Ship is sunk, let's hope those Mages can do the rest."

-x-

"Weps, Conn, raid warning, priority targets identified as 500-kiloton nuclear cruise missiles. Engage priority, full arsenal, repeat, engage priority, full arsenal," Captain Freeman orders.

"Priority engage, roger that. Targeting array online, valid track high-speed intercept, targeting units with AMS and pulse lasers priority. Fire control released, firing in three, two, one, now," the sound of the Laser AMS units unloading on the passing missiles was heartening to the crew, not to mention the accompanying but slow-firing sound of pulse lasers firing in battery configurations on the same. "BOOYA! Scratch one!"

"Shit, the second—it won't lock! I can't get a solution on it!"

"Go to manual!" Captain Freeman orders. "Designate with X-band radar targeting and slave all weapons, missile, ballistic, energy, to that designator. Move it up!"

"Aff!" the weapons controllers do as ordered; "releasing weapons...no track, no track, weapons not firing!"

"Oh, holy fuck, it just kicked in another booster," the sensors operator declares. "Estimate four minutes to impact...Colony Januarius Nine."

"Do we have anything?"

"Neg, Captain, we're out of options. Nearest intercept..._Mjolnr_."

"Relay what we have to the CIC on the _Mjolnr_, they'll know what to do." _DAMNIT, DAMNIT, DAMNIT! What the hell went wrong? Those were supposed to be easy, soft kills,_ the Captain raged inside the confines of his own mind.

-x-

"Conn, Sensors, we have the targeted missile on scope, estimate two minutes until its in our area."

"Weps, prepare to try and smoke it. Helm, move the ship to block the missile's flight path."

"Uh, I know I didn't hear that right," CWO Willy replies. "You want me to put the ship in a place where it could be **nuked**?"

"Side-effect of the 35000 tons of armor on this ship, Willy, a surface detonation will not cause enough damage to cripple the ship. Hell, it may not even penetrate the armor, if it is small enough."

"Five hundred kilos, sir," the Sensors operator says. "That sounds a bit high to me."

"Five hundred? That's it? Bah, a surface detonation like that won't even slow us down." The rest of the bridge crew looked less than confident in the Commander's declaration. "Willy, move the ship, center the impact point over the port-side forward area. We'll lose less than a third of the armor in that area, with a possible minor structural damage effect. Certainly less than a colony would take."

"This is gonna suck," Willy complains lamely.

"Tell us something we don't know, Helmsman," the Ship's AI grumps. "I'm issuing evac orders to all personnel in that segment of the ship, sir. I'll handle the weapons automatically, for what it is worth."

"Something wrong?" Commander Ward asks in reply.

"Aff, the missile is still accelerating at 5 Gs. When it hits, it may embed itself up to three meters before detonating."

"Still, better us than a colony. Willy, status?"

"Ten seconds to location, Commander Crazy-ass," the Helmsman replies sarcastically.

"Commander, all hands have been evacuated from port-forward. We're ready for this," the AI says calmly.

"Neg, you are never ready to get nuked," Commander Ward grumps as he was picking up the microphone for the intercom system. "Attention all hands, we are about to interpose this ship between Januarius Nine and an incoming nuke. If it detonates on the surface of the ship, the worst we'll take is armor damage. Just be prepared to evacuate if it gets worse. All hands, brace for violent collision at this time!"

The Sensor Operator took over the 1MC. "Attention, ten seconds, nine, eight, seven, six," and the AI entity began unloading standard-scale weapons at it to avert a hit, but did not damage it notably since it was already moving so fast; "five, four, three, two, one, NOW!"

The whole ship jarred once, then everyone had a temporary weightlessness feeling as the blast of the weapon drove the ship down and toward the colony for a moment. Calamira went up almost a half-meter, then came back down on the arm of her chair at a slight angle, striking her ribs against the arm of the chair with a side-order of asymmetrical whiplash to accompany. "Ow, shit!"

"Damage report!"

"Sir, surface detonation, it annihilated a ten-meter-deep crater in the armor and a thirty meter-wide radius. Blast trauma has caused ripple-shearing all throughout the port-forward armor area, and may have crushed the adjacent corridors. No penetration, though I am showing sensors, thrusters, and some weapons on that side severely damaged. We lived!"

"DID YOU HEAR THAT? HUH? HUH? WE JUST GOT RAM-FUCKED BY THEIR BEST AND WE LIVED! WHO DA MAN? HUH? WHO DA MAN?" Willy shouts after getting out of his station.

"Glad you feel that way, Willy, now sit down, shut up, strap in, and get ready to move," Commander Ward orders.

-x-

"Un-fucking-real," Yzak moans. "They just threw themselves in front of a nuke, and the damn thing is still intact!"

"Worse, Commander Joule, not only did it not penetrate, the ship is moving now!" Shiho almost sounded frightened at the thought.

"Uh, sir, they ain't happy," the surviving of the two that could 'sense' the enemy says. "They really ain't happy."

Yzak was tempted to be a smartass and say something snarky, but he knew it was pointless in these circumstances. He'd already had his ass handed to him in several good sized pieces, and this foe looked to be unstoppable in conventional battle. Even the nuclear options were out, Yzak watched GENESIS come apart by whatever weapon they used on it from the inside, and the ship just took a nuke in the side and continued operating, even now appearing to go on the offensive!

"This just is not our day," Yzak grumps. "I know they ain't Earth Alliance, so I wonder what their game is," he muses to nobody in particular.

-x-x-x-

"Chairman! Our forces, our people are being slaughtered! We have to surrender or we won't survive!"

Chairman Patrick Zala had become wearied of the insufferable jackass adviser the Supreme Council assigned to him. Patrick was one of the first true ZAFT patriots, he had fought the Earth Alliance oppression from the beginning, unlike this dickhead who was telling him how to act now. His hand went into the overcoat he wore, the groove of his hand centering on the handle of the 9mm pistol he kept in a shoulder holster. With a fluid motion, the pistol came out and he drew the slide back to chamber a round and cock the pistol. As he turned around his right arm straightened out and the sights centered, before he stopped rotating in his chair positioned properly to give the bastard a pair of chest shots.

His sights fell on target, and he had a slight amount of pressure on the trigger, but he never fired. A violet glow beyond him, a sinister luminescent glow like nothing ZAFT had in its arsenal, drew him to a stop before he could shoot. "What...no way, they're already here!"

"What?" the shocked adviser asks, then looks to where the Chairman was now aiming his pistol. "Oh, that, a...beam saber!"

"Down here, sir! They're breaking in the secondary door as well!" the guards shout from the controller floor.

"This is insane!" Chairman Zala shouts. "This is MADNESS! How can we be defeated? We are the superior beings!"

Even as he shouted such, the sound of the beam sabers cutting through the half-meter-thick blast doors gave way to the sound of the most haunting music he had ever heard. It was very heavy rock 'n' roll music, and extremely hard to understand, but it had the voice of a female lead singer and an off-and-on choral and full orchestral bent to it. The thought of facing armored super-soldiers that listened to metal with opera mixed in for good measure was extremely discordant to Patrick's ears, as if they were trying to have it four separate ways at once.

All activity stopped in the room, all eyes were on the doors in abject terror or dread fascination as beam sabers chopped through the reinforced blast doors. Nothing appeared able to stop them, even a few grenades stuffed out the cracks in the lower door did not slow down the pace of the cut. Patrick watched the troops on the security screens, as did even his adviser he had threatened. "That armor...it withstood GINN machine gun fire?"

"The CIWS on the Duel," Patrick replies. "The secret has to be in the shield, their body plate can't be heavy enough to defend them and still be maneuverable," he opines, only partially correct in his assessment.

"And a dozen weapons on this one, but less on that one. I wonder why..." he was referring to two of the troops standing nearby the one that was slashing into the door.

"Anti-infantry weapons, they're almost all small-caliber machine guns and such," Patrick says. "As opposed to a few mixed weapons on this one, but one huge rifle."

"What rifle?" the Adviser asks. Patrick traces its length across the screen with his finger, though part of a third trooper's head was obscuring the bulk of it. "What the hell would someone use such a huge rifle for?"

"Taking out other armored targets is the only thing I can come up with, sir," a kibitzing infantry soldier says.

"He has a point, Chairman. If they have armor like that, it's safe to say they train to fight other armored soldiers like themselves, and fighting forces like us is just an extension of it."

"Sir, they're almost through!" the other area guard half-shouts, taking aim at the door with his assault rifle.

Patrick focused back on the door, observing as the two beam sabers came together at the top to chop through the remnant few centimeters of the doors. After the last of the hardened titanium was annihilated, the beam sabers disappeared, and Patrick watched on the security screen as the trooper that had done the cutting reattached her shield, then simply booted the door remnant inward. The several tons of door material did not move speedily, but it did move inexorably forward, threatening to crush the one guard in the room that threatened resistance. He was expecting it, and bolted left to clear out from the door's travel path.

The first enemy trooper through the door went for the lone guard, charging through his hail of rifle fire and right up to him. No forewarning, no order to surrender, nothing before Patrick beheld the Marine as she loosed a forearm-mounted blade and swung rapidly. The knife chopped through his left forearm and left shoulder at the same time, almost without resistance, though before he could even begin to properly scream the return slash was horizontal across the neck. The head severed leaked its blood out into the weightless environs, the remainder of the body kept pumping its last blood reserves out to join the head no longer there. More than one of the Operators shrieked after seeing that frightful display, Patrick simply clenched his jaw and said nothing.

The door remnant was given momentum upwards by a follow-on trooper, this one with a mix of large-bore weapons of several types, including something that bore striking resemblance to a miniature tank cannon. In fact, said weapon did look like the barrel of a pre-CE main battle tank at half size and sans the rest of the tank, when pointed at the people on the command platform. In comparison, the assault rifles pointed at them almost seemed of child's toys compared to that tank gun, but intellectually they all knew they would be equally dead regardless of which trooper shot first.

"Well, well, the heart of ZAFT's command structure, caught without anywhere to run. Game, set, and match, I daresay." This speaker was a guy, and not all that old in Patrick's estimation. Certainly younger than he was, though possibly not by much.

"I will give you monsters nothing," Patrick Zala replies coarsely.

"Actually, that is preferred. I do not want anything from ZAFT, in fact it would be nice if you stopped shooting at us. It is getting old," the same officer replies. "Fair enough?"

"What? What manner of insult is this?" Patrick asks. He did not realize he was still pointing a gun at them, though they clearly knew it.

"No insult." Two of the troopers shift aside to let a third through, almost indistinguishable from the rest, until he ejects his shield to free-float and Patrick could identify what appeared to be rank insignia on the chest plate: five silver bars. "We Magi, we have nothing for ZAFT, and nothing against ZAFT. Had you kept the war conventional, you would never have heard from us until after the shooting was done. Seeing as both sides were targeting civilians with nuclear death, well, suffice it to say that we Magi do not like watching civilians killed, especially en masse as you intended."

Another pistol was leveled, this time from one of his subordinates to the Chairman. "Is this true?" the lady asks.

"Stay your pistol, Operator," the Magi officer orders. She looks at him, not understanding what he meant and clearly showing it by her expression. "Holster it, kid. He is defeated, and his own administration has disbarred him from command. Your battle is over."

"What?" Patrick asks, only to catch a glimpse of Eileen Canaver as she moved behind the front rank.

"The Supreme Council has ordered you to stand down, Patrick," Eileen says. "I am to remove you from command, by force if necessary. Please don't make this an issue."

"I will not!" Patrick half-shouts in clear defiance, now pointing at where Eileen was mostly shielded by one of the armored troopers.

"Look to your strategic map, dipshit! You have nothing left to continue this fight!" the armored troop officer pointed to the map in question, and true to his word there was nothing left, or what was left was reporting serious damage and reduced capability. "Continuing this battle, continuing such meaningless omnicidal depredations, it serves no purpose. You are trading and taking lives for precisely nothing!"

"Damnit! We are the superior beings!" Patrick never aimed more deliberately in his life, a single shot that landed dead-center on the officer's visor. Many hearts stopped for a second or more, all eyes on the invading troopers as more poured into the room and a shot caused many raised rifles and support weapons.

The reaction was immediate from the troopers near the officer. The least of the weapons so aimed was a pistol, one with a bore distinctly larger than the ZAFT and Earth Alliance pistols. The greatest was the miniature tank cannon with a baffled muzzle brake, a very frightening sight on something that was presumably infantry or marine.

"Hold! Do not fire!" the Officer orders very forcefully, even as the barrel of the enemy pistol quit smoking. "You are not superior to the Earth Alliance nor our ranks, just as they are not superior to you. Coordinators are not evolved, this supposed superiority of yours is all in the confines of your head." Another shot, practically the same place, and not a whit of damage visible on the visor. Two more shots, clearly of desperation, one flattening against his visor and idly floating away from him, another careened off the side of his helm and embedded itself in a screen. "We have existed for thousands of years, Chairman Zala. We Magi have done much, destroyed planets and birthed stars, crossed the deep darkness between inhabitable worlds in seconds, jumped to and colonized alternate and parallel dimensions, and fought three and a half millennia of genocidal war you could never properly imagine. Never once in our existence have we seen nor engineered an evolutionary step past what we are now—and what you are now, just the same as we. You say you are superior to everyone else?" The enemy commanding officer reaches up to the slug hovering nearby his faceplate, examines it for a moment, then discards it with an idle flick of his wrist. "I say the only thing superior about you is your supreme arrogance and conceit, believing that you have the right to judge humanity based on the irrelevant station of your birth. I, personally, was born in a gene tank using techniques similar to and more advanced over Coordinator enhancements, and I do not believe myself superior or inferior to anyone else in this room. My expanded strength, dexterity and stamina give me the physical power—inside or outside of this armor—to roughly unscrew your head from your body and kick it around this room all day long, and still I am no more evolved than the rest of you attempted Nazi hacks. And, right now, the only thing keeping you alive is the fact that it is not worth the expenditure of ammo to shoot someone who is already dishonored, derelict, and dismissed from his command. Any questions?"

For the first time, Patrick lowered his pistol, realizing that the myriad of guns he was staring down had the right of it. He had been contemplating killing off the population of earth, if for no other reason than to give the Naturals a taste of civilian death, let them feel what it was like to lose friends and family in one omnicidal stroke that they couldn't stop. It took the whole of five seconds for him to realize he had become a complete monster, and even the uninvolved were coming out of the woodwork to stop him.

A deep sigh preceded the Chairman's next action. "Here," he releases his pistol to float across the gap to the officer in charge of the armored troopers. "I surrender, contingent you cease fire on ZAFT troops," Patrick offers.

"Easy enough." the enemy officer activates his radio, which was also transmitting over his external speakers. "Star Admiral Centara from GC Michaels, come back," he requests.

"Go," a voice replies in a clipped fashion.

"ZAFT command is offering a surrender on term that we cease fire on them at this time." the officer had caught the pistol floating his way, and took a few moments to examine it. From what the ZAFT personnel could discern of his examination, he was not impressed.

"Easy enough, there is little ZAFT organized resistance remaining." A pause of a moment; "All forces, this is Joker's Ace. ZAFT forces will be surrendering contingent cease-fire on our parts. All forces are to redirect to the Earth Alliance remnants to continue offensive operations until they surrender. All Sections acknowledge," the Star Admiral orders.

What followed was a rather disheartening acknowledgment listing of all the active formations, as well as the ships involved in the fighting. The ZAFT analysts maintained no illusions, if the massive Warship could survive a direct nuclear strike, there was little left for them to do but surrender.

"Here, keep it," the pistol was sent back to the Chairman. "I don't collect nine-millies. Keep it in holster, though, or one of my Marines may take offense to you waving a piece around."

-x-x-x-

"Boss, you may want to back off from this one. He ain't going to be pleasant."

Wayne nodded thoughtfully in the confines of his cockpit. The enemy in question was obviously a Newtype, he was using remote weapons to slaughter even Magi mobile suits, more than a dozen so far and nary a scratch on his. It would take someone with equal or greater skills and helluva powerful equipment to match or defeat him.

In the end, not a difficult decision. "Roger that, Joker's Ace is returning to base. Good luck, Angel Team."

"Thanks, boss," Gerald replies. "Angel One, follow me in. Engage target priority, don't hold off anything. Enemy machine identified at long range as a Gundam-class machine with a large array of remote weapons."

"And me without my funnels to return the favor," Kika replies in kind. "Oh, well, looks like I'll have to kill him conventionally."

"Wah-wah," Gerald replies sarcastically. He knew that Kika was rated to use 35 Funnels or Bits at any given time, making her a veritable one-lady-army if she could take possession of that many Funnels. Gerald, on the other hand, was rated far higher than she was on that count, and has revealed that to precisely nobody. "Ready to engage?"

"Aff," Kika replies. "Firing now."

Gerald and Kika were aiming at two separate things. Kika, for the enemy Gundam, Gerald, for the funnel-class remote weapons used by the enemy machine. Gerald scored two solid hits and one glancing hit, Kika missed entirely but forced the enemy to pay attention to something other than _Hyperion_, the Warship he had turned his guns on but completely failed to cause significant damage to.

The mental voice of Creuset was just barely enough to be heard by Gerald and Kika. _So, the Angel of Death has come to the field of humanity's final battle...and rendered it moot_; a pair of beams lanced out from the high-power beam rifle on the enemy Gundam, though befell Gerald's I-Field system. _You cannot stave the final fate of humanity, Angel, it is their destiny to burn_!

_You know nothing of fate or destiny, scumdog. I have seen it all: life, death, nirvana, pandemonium, heaven, hell, even you cannot comprehend that which shall be_. Gerald and Kika streaked past the Gundam that was physically far smaller than their mobile armors, trading shots at closer ranges that still amounted to nothing. _You are simply railing against an inevitability that not even we Magi have been able to change_, Gerald forcefully tells him across the psychic plane.

"Kika, start in on him with the missiles. I have an idea..."

"I like your ideas," Kika replies, already sensing what the plan was.

_No man can see the future, even such as you or I; you cannot believe that you know what the fate of humanity truly is, without the hands of humans causing it!_ The enemy was creative in his application of the remote weapons systems, using them to harry the two Mobile Armors as they moved away and doubled back for another pass. Gerald silenced another of the beam pods with a well-timed blast from his rear beam cannons, but that was it. _They are the Uroburos, the serpent that eats itself in desperation; they will constantly push themselves to be better at everything, fueling hatred and despair wherever they go and with whoever they touch! Even you can see this! They are unfit to inherit the cosmos!_

_Beings far worse than what you describe have themselves inherited whole cosmos, Creuset, and they have not spawned hatred such as you believe we are capable_, Kika declares stoutly. _Even I was able to get along with they, and yet you cannot see farther than the front sight of your gun_!

Creuset managed to intercept part of the missiles launched from the two Mobile Armors, though he was more concerned with dodging the very large beam cannon strikes that would have annihilated his machine in one stroke. He took five hits, one damaging his shield significantly, though the four that struck body locations only jarred him in the cockpit and caused no systems or armor damage. He smirked pleasureful, enjoying the advantage of Phase Shift armor and a nuclear reactor. Even the pithy burst of machine cannon he received from the Archangel of Death did not damage his machine to any significant amount, just overstressed the left elbow joint of the machine

_I damn you all for your intransigence, stopping the inevitable fate of humankind, but the wisdom of your soldiers in Jachin Due is ample. After I kill you off, I will only need destabilize one of the PLANTs and it will destroy enough of Earth to eventually kill all but the colony on Mars_.

_You have to kill __**us**__ first, Creuset. The Angel Team does not give freebies_, Gerald informs him harshly.

_My pleasure, inferiors_. Behind a wall of beams that had thinned with the loss of two more DRAGOON pods, Creuset charged headlong at Angel One, seeing in its ponderous form the core of the machine, the Gundam Stamen that controlled the massive Mobile Armor. He was yet surprised that their ability to intercept beams was as solid as he could dish out, but in close the game changed.

"Oh shit! Gerald!" Kika shouts, trying to maneuver away from the closing enemy, and at the last moment trying the anti-ship beam saber. Neither attempt succeeded, and Creuset was still able to close up on the Mobile Suit at the core of the machine. His shield-mounted beam saber destroyed the right-hand beam rifle Kika was carrying in the Stamen, before the beam rifle centered on the body of the Mobile Suit. She tried to reach for the emergency eject to clear away from the Orchis and by extension him, but it was done. One shot, two shots, three, and Gerald heard the buzzing tone from her life support monitor.

_One down, one to go, then I silence your ships and your comrades_!

_YOU WILL DINE IN HELL TONIGHT, CREUSET_! Gerald shouts on the telepathic plane, something easily heard by everyone within ten thousand kilometers of his Mobile Armor.

Creuset charged the Neue Ziel Upgrade, dodging below the short-range beam blasts and plowing through a salvo of missiles carelessly, intent to close on the Mobile Armor and exploit its weakness at close range. He saw the eight five-round bursts lance out from the machine cannons on the enemy armor, but was too close to divert and still get to his target area, so he plowed through the bursts. It would be his fatal mistake of the battle.

Gerald had planned exquisitely for just such a case, where an enemy had Phase Shift and enough acumen to dodge the beam weapons, though he did not plan on losing Kika and was extremely infuriated with the omnicidal maniac charging him down. Gerald never aimed his cannons more deliberately in his life, and did so with clear purpose and an unseen advantage. His first ton of loaded ammo was standard Ultra AC fare, nothing more than the normal for busting fighters and small craft. 80 percent of that ammo fed through the guns in his first machine cannon attack, and as he expected did not cause any notable damage to the enemy. The last twenty percent fired through the two outboard cannons while the guns switched to the next magazines, which were wildly different from standard HEAP (6) shells, and fired a total of six salvos from the second magazine. These different shells had been designated APPS-HP, or **A**rmor **P**iercing **P**hase **S**hifted – **H**eavy **P**enetrator, and a total of thirty of these specially-engineered slugs had been loosed at the Providence Gundam.

Creuset did not have enough time to realize what went wrong, only that something had gone seriously wrong. The PS Penetrators chopped through his armor as if it was paper thin aluminum foil, in every case outmatching the Phase Shift built into his systems. After bypassing the armor, the slugs tore through the internal components and vitals of his machine, and therein the true damage was done. A salvo and a partial chopped through the longitudinal axis of the main reactor cooling systems and power distribution, to which the engineered fail-safes entered fail mode and SCRAMed the reactor. Another burst walked through the quasi-modal cortex of the Gundam, severing the main brain linkage to the rest of the machine with the cockpit. The final coffin nail in the demise of the machine was the destruction of the beam rifle and power distributor in the backpack for the DRAGOON pods, sundered by an off-course penetrator that was not cast uniformly and left the barrel at a strange angle. In mere seconds, what was left of the Providence shut down and promptly impacted the chest glaces plate of the Neue Ziel. Further movement was halted by something catching hold on his machine, then the unmistakable inertia of being reeled by tow-line toward something else.

_Surprising you survived that, Creuset. Come on out, I will share with you what Humanity has earned_.

Creuset, knowing he was dead whether he stayed inside or went out, gave into his natural curiosity. He ejected the cockpit door and drifted out onto the surface of the wire-guided claw arm of the Neue Ziel. Waiting upon said arm was a soldier in midnight blue exposure armor. _What could you possibly know of what Humanity had earned? I alone have the right to pass judgment on they_!

_Your posturing is not the end of humanity. Your scheming will end as a footnote to this battle, a lesson for future generations that there are people willing to kill everyone out of a sense of depredation and false godhood. You have failed to even modify the outcome of the end of Existence, and for that I can but pity you_.

_Save your pity for the animals you defend_!

_Oh, no, Creuset, I will not spare you my pity_, Gerald replies smoothly. _You took the time to damn us, but it is you who shall be damned for your omnicidal wangsty raging and back-parlor scheming to kill off all humanity. You see, everyone in Existence is reborn cross-dimensionally at the time of death, no knowledge and only some latent link to their past selves. I know the being that facilities these transfers, but you have made yourself a special exception, Creuset. You will die here, your soul object going no farther than your dying corpse. Not that such would be a terrible loss to Existence, mind you_.

_And how does that bother me_? Creuset could not sound any more loaded with conceit to Gerald if he tried.

_Someday, that being will be killed in combat. After that, the dead no longer trade locations to continue anew. All of Existence will deplete itself in due time. I do not know if there is a recovery in the end or not, but you can look forward to watching and waiting for it in Hell. And it shall be a long, agonizing wait for the likes of you_.

_Thank you, Professor Lightbringer. Now be done with it_. Creuset sounded as ready as any to die, now knowing what was thought to be the reliable outlook on the future.

_I will see you in Hell shortly. Save me a seat, ne_? Gerald brought up his Rorynex PDW, a sub-machine gun that fired a small and explosive round. With a short burst of ten rounds, Gerald ripped Creuset's body apart into several large ragged chunks, taking care to walk part of the burst across his faceplate to make sure his head was suitably annihilated.

"Amazing what bullshit you can say and someone would believe you," Gerald mutters to the empty space around him. "Angel One, Command Interpreter Override, return to _Mjolnr_ for emergency landing." He activates his main control link to the radios in his Neue Ziel. "Mjolnr, Angel Zero with two reports. Alpha, Angel one is KIA, beam rifle at close range. Have ordered MA to return to base emergency landing. Bravo report, enemy ace Rau Le Creuset killed in action at my location, confirm enemy scratched Angel One but didn't even nick me. Requesting orders to the front at this time."

"Angel Zero, Centara, negative orders to the front, return to base at this time. ZAFT command has announced surrender during your shooting match, minimal threat from remaining forces. This one is veritably over."

-x-x-x-

To point of Star Admiral Centara's declaration:

"Attention unknown mobile forces and Warships, this is Rear Admiral Joachim Nees, acting fleet commander of Peacemaker Force. I request terms of surrender at this time," the remaining enemy admiralty officer broadcasts on the communication nets, accompanied by white surrender flares.

"Rear Admiral Nees, this is Star Admiral Wayne Centara, Magi warship _Mjolnr_, I acknowledge your request for terms of surrender. All Earth Alliance forces will immediately cease fire, deactivate targeting and tracking systems, and de-power weapon systems. Your fleet is to move to the left flank of the battle area and maintain formation. We have detected Earth Alliance reinforcements coming from Luna, they will likely join up with you at that time, but given that both sides have requested surrender, I expect negotiations will see this resolved before any more gun action is necessary."

"Roger that, we are moving now to requested area and will await further instructions."

The body of the Blue Cosmos Political Officer floated past him, headed for the opposite side of the bridge in what could be irreverently considered a gruesome game of dead-man's volleyball between his communications and sensors officers. Neither liked her to begin with, which added an extra dimension to the game. The only thing that Rear Admiral Nees would not countenance was violating her body, despite her deplorable conduct when she was alive.

"We live!" the Sensors Officer shouts before shoving the body back across the way toward the Commo officer. "Jesus that was scary! These maniacs know how to fight harder than ZAFT!"

"No doubt," the Rear Admiral replies coldly. "There is a new Sheriff in town, and he just declared that he is the baddest motherfucker on Main street...for today, at least."

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

Chaotic, frenetic battle. Something about writing about fights that shift rapidly always gets me going faster, harder.

Regardless, though this did not look as random as some of my other battles, you can rest assured that there were some parts I was not expecting to have to write, like Cho's unit being almost completely killed or the amount of casualties that Creuset caused among the Magi. Such things are certainly not as clear-cut until the dice come up snake-eyes (or in this case a roll of 22 and 31 out of 100, meaning dire straights for the Magi). Still and all, the rest of the battle flowed as I expected, and I think I achieved the result I was looking for.

11 chapters in of a planned 25. The more I think about it, the more I like the thought of completing epic narratives, gives me plenty of room to play with prose and concepts. It also helps that I have something approaching an ongoing good-spirit argument about what sides will do to each other with clear purpose to do so. The more ideas I get, the better.

There was some question as to how a multi-planetary and multi-dimensional government like the Magi manages to survive without collapsing of its own weight. I will be exploring that angle in depth and at length here in the next several chapters, for reasons that will become apparent in the next chapter. Y'all should known by now that I do not like spoiling surprises, no?

That's pretty much it for the chapter. I'll leave any mysteries hanging UFN, see who can come up with the most logical explanations.

NEXT UP: The negotiating table becomes something of a hot battleground for an otherwise cold war. Even discourse can get sharp under the right circumstances...

* * *

Review Replies: Five reviews for this last chapter, much thank you all for the support and ideas!

**Rickroller**: I hope this goes a bit more into the 'smashing ZAFT' territory you like so much.

**Necroblade**: Haros with Phase Shifting armor? Oh, holy crap, they would be practically the perfect insurrection and espionage tool! But scary nonetheless. Gotta love the Marines, though.

**EtienneOfTheWestWind**: I think I was aiming for alliteration, not perversion. That whole rant was fueled by sleep deprivation and less-than-stellar judgment, I don't know now why I wrote it or didn't edit it out, or really what the hell I was thinking. At the least, glad to avoid one of your other pet-peeves in so doing. I hope the conclusion of the battle was ample for you :)

**Gatomon41**: I hope this chapter further reinforces the varying pace and style of battle the story has to offer. Because it definitely is not over yet :)

The Gods of yore are prominent figures in the backstory, up to a certain point (and in limited effect even thereafter). Expect a lot of that in the MMC to come.

I actually do not have much in the way of versing on Warhammer 40K, though everything I have read about it makes me want to read more. I may have to look into it, after all is said and done.

**Knives91**: The tactical paintball game is favored for force-on-force training sims, but is not without casualties as you saw in the chapter. There may be a few more in chappies to come, but be warned that the sim systems for MS combat are even better...

Thank you one and all for the reviews. Keep 'em coming!

* * *

The Gripe Sheet: Hopefully, **Necroblade** got them all in this chapter, as he and **Strata** got them all last chapter.

* * *

Footnotes:

(1): 30-caliber rifles are weapons in the 7.62mm to 7.65mm metric range, with bullet diameters of .300in to .310in in standard units (.308in is the most common). These weapons are powerful and highly effective against unarmored infantry, but even armor-piercing and explosive 30-caliber is veritably useless against powered armor / battle armor / infantry (Marine) armor units.

(2): **S**pace **C**apable **A**dvanced **M**edium **R**ange **A**ir-to-**A**ir **M**issile. Jokingly called Scammers, Scam-Rammers or Scam-Slammers, the SCAMRAAM is carried by Magi Aerofighters as a single-shot external-payload heavy-hitter for use against light and medium targets in both atmospheric engagements and in space. Each Fireball can carry four of the advanced SCAMRAAM in place of one ton worth of bombs.

(3): Missile Fratricide occurs when a missile flies through the debris shower or detonation plume of a preceding missile, damaging or destroying critical components of the missile and preventing it from working properly on the target. This is a real-world problem with missiles, FFAR (folding-fin aerial rockets), and even nuclear ballistic missile warheads, and the author translates this problem to being real in this story as well.

(4): 3-Alpha-11 is a unit assignment designation, consisting of Trinary-Cluster-Point designation. Therefore, the listed designation means that Elisa is Point Commander of the 11 Point, 3 Trinary in Alpha Cluster. Usually, this would be followed up by a Galaxy designation, though in the case of said Marines there is only one galaxy, so no extended listing is needed. An example of the full designation would be 1-Kappa-04 of the 2558th Heavy Aerospace Galaxy.

(5): Powless is a Clan term, directly translated to Powerless, but in common use refers to fighting without their normal weapons or in an environment for which they have not trained.

(6): **H**igh **E**xplosive **A**rmor **P**iercing, munitions specifically designed to penetrate armor. In Battletech terms, these are standard Autocannon shells. Magi designate anti-personnel explosive rounds as HEAR, or **H**igh **E**xplosive **A**ntipersonnel **R**adial.


	12. Loud and Hard

(Jokers Wild, Set 1, Chapter 12: Loud and Hard)

ADDENDUM TO STORY DISCLAIMERS: This is to clarify a point I made 11 chapters ago, and likely some overlooked.

DICE WARNING: Events in this story will be controlled by the dice, and are concrete, true-random results provided by number generation services. These results will change events dynamically and/or modify established plans. After all, there is no mistress more cruel than fate.

POLITICAL WARNING: Political concepts and methods may be presented in this story that may conflict with established 'norms'. This is deliberate on the part of the author, to show different and rather sharp viewpoints on these subjects. The views expressed most likely do not match the views of the author, and are also subject to the dice at any time.

ANTI-POLITICAL CORRECTNESS WARNING: AT NO TIME will this story be politically correct. Real life is not politically correct, much less 'nice' in some definitions of the word. If you take issue with this, I recommend finding another read.

Thank you, and now onto the story.

* * *

(Jokers Wild, Set 1, Chapter 12: Loud and Hard)

(27 September CE 71, 1000 hours)

(ZAFT Warship _Fermi_)

The cockpit section of the fighter the _Fermi_ had destroyed was all the GuAIZ brought in, the rest of the fighter was well out of range for them to seize. On the other hand, some mobile worker units were recovering a unit of MS that had been eliminated during the initial thrust of the enemy forces, and included the Duel and a CGUE DEEP Arms unit that had survived partially intact.

"Amazing how much destruction they can cause with so little effort, Captain," Talia's Chief Mechanic notes sourly, seeing what had happened to the Duel.

"They are something else," the Captain replies after a few moments. "Yet, I just cannot figure out why they would attack both sides, and with such an otherwise small force. They had to know they were outnumbered by as much as 4-to-1, maybe more," she grumps as the Chief Mechanic follows her down a lift to the ground floor.

"They still won, no matter how much we outnumbered them," the Chief Mechanic says.

"True, but we were not expecting them at all. It is doubtful that our command structure even knew they existed...or anyone else knew of them, for that matter." the lift stopped at the bottom floor, and both Captain and Chief Mechanic kicked out of the elevator to head toward the incoming wounded units. "Mechanic, what is the status of the Duel pilot?"

"He's all right, Captain, mechanics are trying to get him out now," a senior mechanic that was directing the action from a computer terminal replies immediately. To point of fact, not a full second after the coordinating mechanic replied, the cockpit of the Duel blew open from emergency evacuation aids (explosive bolts) to allow Commander Joule to exit his shredded machine. He only took seconds to realize where he was, then single out the Captain and push off to intercept her.

"Commander," Talia says by way of greeting, with a salute thrown in for good measure.

"Captain," Yzak replies stoically. "How bad is your ship?"

"Significant damage to weapons and targeting systems, though it does not matter any more. ZAFT was the first to request a cease-fire, with the Earth Alliance throwing up their white flags less than fifteen minutes later."

"No hope, just as I expected," Yzak shakes his head ruefully.

"What do you mean, sir?" Captain Gladys requests.

"One of their ships and just one of their Mobile Armor units were able to destroy two Warships and sixteen GuAIZ outside of Mendel."

"Oh my—you mean _Vesalius_ and _Heusinger_? How did you—"

"I was on the _Helderton_," Yzak replies stiffly. "I was inside Mendel, getting chewed up by their Marines, when one of their ships and the single Mobile Armor took down two of ZAFT's best ships and the entire mobile compliment. It was all over before I got there. The enemy ship suffered surface damage only, we couldn't even slow it down."

"Same thing this time around," Captain Gladys says. "We may have killed off a few dozen of their smaller ones, but their big ship took a nuke in the side and then went on the offensive."

"Yeah," Yzak replies. "They must be something insane if a nuclear weapon only pisses them off," his resignation was one of analysis, not desperation. Deep inside he may have resented losing to them twice, but the rest of him knew better than to assume he would survive repeated encounters with these maniacs.

"Shall we see what they are?" Captain Gladys asks.

"After you, Captain," Yzak already had an idea what would be inside, though the Captain clearly did not.

The Captain hoisted herself up to where she could see inside the bubble canopy of what was a fighter cockpit in hours past, and was now some form of ejection pod. She was expecting something at the least alien, given the almost complete disparity of form between the local units and these new foes, possibly some kind of biologic mashup or Eldritch abomination as the control center of the machine. She also considered the possibility that it was simply a computer-controlled device, with no pilot except a hunk of metal, though that possible was grossly unlikely given it had ejected from the deceased fighter. Her heart raced long and hard as she came into sight of the controlling being, ready for anything, or so she thought.

The reality of what she saw was almost a let-down to her, until the rest of her curiosity got off the 'anticipation' kick and onto the 'what the hell is this' kick. The form of a guy in what looked to be something akin to an exposure suit but plated in metal was stretched out in the cockpit almost luxuriously, the feet of the armored form resting on the top of the HUD console, the remainder of the pilot stretched out in a reclining position to the back of the command couch. And, if only to make it more bizarre, the pilot was reading a book with one hand, the other hand behind the helmet to brace the pilot in place.

Yzak taps on the canopy with the butt of his sidearm to draw the pilot's attention in their direction. The helmet shifts in their direction for a moment, the free hand comes forward to place a bookmark, and the right foot comes down off the console to slam into a button and trip it, all in a matter of seconds. The canopy unlatched from the frame moments later and began drifting away from the rest of the ejection pod, aided by a shove from the pilot a second later as he straightened out to something approaching a normal sitting position. As he shifted, the Captain noticed the symbols on his left arm, the three triangles on a white background, the silhouette of his fighter with a ball of fire just below that, and a playing card, the Ace of Spades but with the number '16' in lieu of the typical 'A' in the corners.

Unbidden, the pilot reached up to the back of the helmet, and with a counter-clockwise motion released a locking lug audibly. The helmet was hauled forward and off his head, and pushed aside. Captain Gladys almost gasped at the sight of the pilot underneath, but her military discipline kicked in. "You're...human?"

"You expected something else, Captain?" the pilot answers by way of reply. The violet series of tattoos on his face ceased glowing, which was the matter that had freaked Yzak out to the point of silence. He had never seen someone with face tattoos before, and certainly not a tattoo that glowed bio-luminescent like a firefly.

"Jesus," Yzak half-moans, drawing on his studies of old mysticism from years past.

"Jesus, Mohammed, or Abraham, take your pick, I am none of the above. I'm just a lowly Aerofighter pilot. You are?"

"Oh. Captain Talia Gladys, ZAFT Warship _Fermi_. You?"

"Point Commander Sevan, Ace fighter element, Magi Warship _Mjolnr_. Because your ship is the unit that defeated me in combat, I am honor-bound to serve as your bondsman, Captain Gladys."

"Uh, what?" The way it sounded to the Captain and Commander Joule, it almost sounded as if he was offering himself up as some kind of sado-masochist sex slave.

"Mind explaining that?" Yzak asks.

"The laws of military conduct from where I live require me to serve the person that defeated me in combat, until such a time as I am released or indoctrinated into your society. And breaking the law is severely discouraged in Magi society."

"He might as well be an alien," Talia says almost crassly.

She had no idea how much she would come to understand that simple phrase in the coming hours and days. On the other hand, her willingness to weather the interlocking illogical premises would give ZAFT a head-start on the inevitable negotiations.

-x-x-x-

(28 September CE 71, 0900 hours)

(Magi Warship _Mjolnr_)

"So, after reviewing all logs and crew inputs, it is the conclusion of all investigating teams that the missile that slipped past the _Hyperion_ was not a failure to acquire and engage the missile but a failure of the system to target the missile properly, consistent with a general failure of the targeting systems throughout the _Hyperion_," Gerald says to avoid any confusion on the matter. "As such, the targeting systems had to be hard-rebooted for the ship to even use manual targeting procedures."

System failure was something not entirely new to Wayne, given that the _Mjolnr_ suffered an average of two system failures a week worth noting. As such, he was not going to hold such a malfunction against Captain Freeman, and certainly not against his crew who had literally attempted to outpace the Captain at his makeshift orders to track and engage the missile outside normal targeting procedures.

"And the reason why the missile struck and detonated on the _Mjolnr_ was because it was moving faster than a kamikaze light Aerofighter by the time it got to us, and though our own boresight footage shows repeated hits, apparently we did not contact anything critical in the missile," Wayne says. "Luck wins, luck loses, and there isn't a damn thing we can do about it."

"Aff, have to agree there," Gerald says. "Shall I?"

"Go for it," Wayne waves him onward.

"There wasn't much question as to whether or not you screwed up, Captain, and this inquiry was not meant as intimidation nor discipline. Concurrently, you have not at any time been stripped of your command nor shall you be now deprived of it. More to the point, given that _Hyperion_, _Dominion_ and _Vladivostok_ are the only three fully mission-capable ships in our fleet at this time, I expect you will keep your ship ready to operate at a moment's notice, in case the Earth Alliance reinforcements get rowdy and decide they want a second go at it."

"Aff, Century Commander," Captain James Freeman replies immediately.

"Thank you for intercepting one of those nukes, Captain," Wayne replies. "We might not have survived the second."

"Thank you for keeping that nuke off the colony, Star Admiral. If that would've been a hit, sepukku would have been a given, and I doubt much else of the Earth Alliance would have survived it."

"Aff, indeed," Wayne replies. He knew the costs of such actions, and Magi infuriated in such a way would not have been stopped until the offending parties ran out of blood and bodies to be spilled courtesy of their actions. "Return to your command and remain at standby, condition two stations. If we can effect repairs to some other ships, you may be pulled off for crew rest while someone else takes up the guard."

"If I may make a request, Star Admiral, for my crew?"

"Please," Wayne replies cordially.

James hesitates for a moment. "Don't give these bastards so much as half a micron at the negotiating table, sir. They've already proved themselves dishonorable whelps by firing nukes at civilians, they have earned no honorable conduct as far as my staff believe. Maybe others as well."

Wayne chuckles grimly. "I'll have to give them a centimeter or two as a matter of course, Captain, much as I would like to shove a pineapple or two up their arse and watch the fireworks (1). I, unfortunately, will also have to be civil to them. As to being nice, nope, not a chance in hell. Orb has earned 'nice', same for the other neutral states on Terra that were bullied into support of the war. Anyone else, big fat 'hell no'. Any else, Captain?"

"Neg, sir."

"Dismissed." The Captain was out the door seconds later. "All right, what is left?"

"Casualty counts, repair times, expenditure of ordinance, the typical crap that comes with winning."

"Fucking bean counters," Wayne grumps about the necessity of accounting for all the paperwork and ordinance and such. Was it not bad enough that he had to inform the families of the deceased that they would be receiving their loved ones in varying states of remnant after having stopped a nuclear war? Was it not bad enough that he could sortie and measure the hole in the side of his ship by lengths of his Gundam?

"Neg, and not likely that you will ever get a respite from the paperwork involved," Gerald replies before Wayne could even put voice to his internal bitching. "On the other hand, there is one thing that you do need to go over before you turn in or before the negotiations tomorrow. Shall we cover it now, or wait?"

"Which would you prefer?" Wayne asks, seeing no urgent need for him to decide the matter of mystery.

"Now, actually, while all the ships are in and the personnel are mostly available."

"Okay, what is it?" Wayne asks.

"An answer to a question you posed. One moment," and Gerald picks up a growler phone, entering the all-call command. "Teams Foxtrot-Alpha through Foxtrot-Hotel report to Briefing Four immediately. Repeat, teams Foxtrot-Alpha to Foxtrot-Hotel move to briefing four."

_Team structures? No way_... Wayne was rather shocked, since the three standard divisions of the Magi used command structures, whereby the Commandos were always rumored to use team structures inside a very loose command structure. "Am I going to have to officially object to this?"

"Neg, not likely," Gerald replies as they cross from the bridge bridge briefing room to the bridge to the central corridor headed downrange toward Sector 2, where said briefing room was located.

The trip took ten silent minutes of walking, through which the two officers were 'saluted' (2) by many and even twice had to stop to await the passage of cargo exoskeletons. The damage to the ship was extensive, especially in the area of the nuclear blast, and repairs would take months even with the nanomachine repair systems. Nobody maintained illusions about how much more vulnerable the ship was courtesy of acting as naval shields against a nuclear weapon headed straight for civilians. Thankfully, ZAFT and the Earth Alliance believed the opposite and quite clearly showed it by doing as ordered when ordered.

"Okay, Gerald, what is this about?" Wayne asks at the threshold of the briefing room.

"You asked Kingfisher a question in the last battle. The answer is inside."

"Oh," Wayne replies, before tripping the door with trepidation in heart.

When immediately inside the door, someone shouted, "Star Admiral on deck!" shortly accompanied by the sounds of many pairs of boots stamping to attention. It was an amazing sight to Wayne, for the modest briefing room was stocked full of people and there was a concentric ring of people around the chairs standing without seating. Even still, Wayne did not block the door, as more were coming.

"You asked how many Commandos are on the ship. Sadly, three of our ranks did not survive the battle past, but this is what we have," Gerald says. "I was one of their ranks, until I was transferred to the Techstrikers and assigned to this ship. Still, they call me commander above else, so I guide their hands as you request. And now, Star Admiral Centara, their purpose is yours."

"Our lives, in defense of the Empire!" One of the ranks shouts.

"Our foes, in deference to the Empire!" A younger lady shouts in reply.

"Seyla," Wayne replies at the podium. (3)

"Be seated," Gerald orders. The unit was quick but rather noisy about being seated.

"Is this room soundproofed?" Wayne asks off microphone.

"Aff, I saw to it myself," Gerald replies. He also made sure that only the AI had an electronic link to the room, no other parties. The AI was necessarily in on the conspiracy parts of the matter, as it was she who usually did the bulk of the coordinating and dissemination of orders and information among the Commandos.

It only took Wayne four seconds to really calculate his tack, and go from there. "From the day I started this tour, I knew there was something unusual about this ship. A _Phalanx_-class ship, steeped in history, one that fought in every major naval campaign of the Star Empire Wars, taking the name of the weapon of a God friendly to the Empire, and yet abused to the point of criminal neglect and forgotten in every major upgrade phase over the last four thousand years. By the Gods of yore, if only the Star Admiralty really knew who they had pissed on, they may have rectified their misconduct." There were a few chuckles at such a thought.

"I don't need to tell you of the situation. More than the average, you should know what is at stake here. We have averted disaster, prevented a nuclear holocaust, and thoroughly smashed the navies of the two dominant superpowers of this planet. Like our ancestry in wars long past, we have smashed skulls and completed wars in deft, thoroughly Magi strokes."

"SEYLA!" the assembled Commandos shout.

"We have won the war, but the peace looms ahead, and we must win this as well or we shall be victim to the machinations of people who now assuredly hate us more than their traditional enemies. For now, I shall be the only one who officially knows of your ranks, though it is unlikely I can conceal from one other on the ship; I trust her discretion more than—" A lady entered markedly late, immediately tripping the door closed behind her.

"My apologies for being late, Century Commander—eep," the instant hesitation in Calamira's demeanor when she realized that it was the Star Admiral at the podium and not the person who normally held such assemblies.

"I stand corrected," Wayne continues smoothly as Calamira takes a seat in the only other open chair in the facility. "Regardless, I will hold this group classified at this time, though for what I believe will be needed of your services your existence shall be 'grey' soon enough, as opposed to the traditional 'black' existence of your ranks. Now, that being said, I need an idea of your capabilities and placement, that I may do what must be done as efficiently and directly as possible."

Unbidden, the sound-off began: "Alpha Team, Gundam Trinary, latest equipment and resources."

"Bravo Team: Gundams, Trinary formation, also latest equipment."

"Charlie Team: Aerofighter support. You tag 'em, we frag 'em."

"Delta Team: Omnimechs and supporting Mechanized Assault Infantry."

"Echo Team, Assault Ghosts."

"Foxtrot Team: Infiltration Ghosts. Hiding in plain sight and enjoying it."

Calamira was the last to stand up. "Hotel Team, Special Operations, espionage, command and control."

The procession continued with teams that were already standing. "NEST Team, nuclear armaments, special operations, long range recon and strike." Kingfisher says.

"Angel Team, overall command and spaceborne interdiction," Gerald completes the sound-off.

"Damn," Wayne replies stone cold. The array of capabilities, never to mention the badassitude of the individual troopers, was shocking to the otherwise simple Star Admiral. The Techstrikers routinely had less than twenty percent of the capabilities of these troops, and now Wayne not only had them but would need to rely on them.

"Aff, sir, it is a weight, but it may also be our saving grace in months to come."

"The only branch not represented here is the Magi," Wayne replies. "Why so?"

"It is an illusion that all Commandos are also Magi, as that would be gross and rather undue favoritism, though even I must admit that none of the ranks being wizards throughout this ship is extremely long-ball odds at best, and engineering on someone's part at worst."

"Probably those fat bastards in the Admiralty review again," Wayne grouses. "All right, people, thank you for revealing your presence. I will end with a clear statement of my purpose here. Until further notice, my intention is to return to the Empire with any and all personnel that so wish to return, and for those who will inevitably wish to remain here I will build a stable future. Any objections from the floor?"

There was an eerie silence from the whole unit. "I daresay not, Star Admiral," Calamira replies.

"Very well. No sense hanging around, people might get the wrong idea what's going on in here," Wayne says, meaning more than one possible thing all at once. "At your leisure, ladies and gentlemen."

"All rise!" a Gundam pilot shouts. "For the Empire, we shall do what we must!"

"SEYLA!"

-x-x-x-

(30 September CE 71, 0800 hours)

(Warship _Mjolnr_)

Captain Ramius, Lacus Clyne, and Cagalli Athha (each with a single secondary person, namely Commander La Flaga, Andrew Waltfeld, and Colonel Kisaka) were the last to arrive.

"Calamira, how bad is it so far?"

"We have the Earth Alliance and ZAFT pretty much at each other's throats in the conference room, and that is only the beginning. The real work has not even begun yet. Nor have we formally joined the negotiations, hell, the two groups have not even spoke to the Star Admiral yet."

"This could be interesting," Captain Ramius replies.

" 'Interesting' is not the word of choice, Captain, more like 'bloody chaotic'. I am reminded of six-year-olds accused of breaking a flower pot and blaming each other for the mishap."

"Might as well get to it, then," Colonel Kisaka replies. "What are the accommodations?"

"Both sides have refused accommodations in the ship, they will be returning to their own sides after talking. I suggest you do the same to maintain the illusion of neutrality in the matter, or they will accuse you of bias towards our positions."

"And what positions will you be taking?" Lacus asks.

"What positions any Mage would take: restoration of honorable conduct and rights. No less."

As they were walking 'north' up the central corridor toward Briefing 2, Calamira didn't even have to try hard to understand that what she said had immediately caused consternation in at least three of the six she was leading to the destination room. The 'why' of such matters was also fairly obvious: Calamira's phrasing, likely because of it being not exactly the most politic, was also rather inflexible whereas the Star Admiral was planning on being far more flexible than most the crew wanted him to be. After all, how could one expect honorable conduct out of someone who just shot a nuclear weapon at civilians?

"And where does the Star Admiral draw the line? When he's restarted the war?" Captain Ramius asks.

_Smartass_, Calamira thinks but only belatedly hoped it didn't bleed across telepathically. If it did, nobody reacted to it in the seconds thereafter. "Oh no, there will be no restart of the war. Neither side has enough resources, active units, capital ships, or mobile suits to make a good case of it."

The cluster of officers came to a halt in the center of the corridor, away from the door. "Anything else we should know?"

"You know as much as we do. I won't be in on this, someone from the command group has to remain ready. Good luck, all of you, and hope to having Orb restored."

"Thank you, Calamira," Cagalli says sincerely before being the second to last to enter the room.

It was Waltfeld who was the last. "Is there a reason you are being inflexible on some things, or is this just a stunt?"

Calamira sighs. "Magi law, and more to the point Magi convictions, require we have to take certain positions and not relent on them. One of the big ones is the gross violation of a nation's sovereignty for the purpose of fighting a war and/or exploiting its resources. We believe that if you cannot fight without exploiting others, you should not be fighting to begin with, or you should pay the price of your own accord."

"Ah, so this isn't just an attitude issue, but also a legal issue on your part."

"Aff," Calamira says diffidently. "Were we not willing to hold to our responsibilities and convictions, we would not be Magi." A moment's hesitation; "Good luck, everyone."

Cagalli watched the retreating form of the Strategic Psionic almost wistfully, wishing she would be involved in the talks, but only the Star Admiral and Century Commander would be involved in that.

-x-

"Ready to go, boss-man?" Gerald asks after stepping inside the Star Admiral's quarters.

"Aff, shall we?" Wayne says after giving his ribbon bars one last tug and making sure they were seated properly. Without much more concern for his appearance, he was out the door. "Your ghosts, do they stir today?"

"Neg, the specters are silent today, I usually prefer shooting people over negotiating with them, especially this lot."

"Including the Three Ships?" Wayne asks.

"With three exceptions," Gerald replies. "Though, when you get down to it, they are far lower on the shoot-list. Damned idealists and politicians can fuck a peace up faster than we professionals."

"Old hat, man," Wayne replies, meaning that history had already proved Gerald right time and time and time again.

Calamira came to attention as they approached her, since by one technicality out of two both command officers outranked her. "Everyone there?" Gerald asks after a moment.

"Aff, they are there. And already are they doing the 'he did it, she did it' routine."

"I get the feeling this shall be a babysitting detail if ever one," Gerald gripes.

"Such price we pay for victory," Wayne replies stolidly. "Commander Ward has the Conn right now, so I want you to keep a very close eye on the Earth Alliance remnant fleets, and keep a look out for even more of them. We're in a neutral zone right now, but we know how much BC respects neutral parties...or their betters."

"Aff, sir, will do," Calamira replies.

"As you were, Calamira. And thank you for pulling our butts out of the fire."

"Sir," and without further ado she was on her way towards the bridge.

"Where was I? Oh, yes, ranting on and on about pissant politicians. See, soldiers will stare at each other for time immemorial; it takes a radical, a politician, or a lot of pissed-off civilians to start a war," Gerald continues as if they had not been interrupted.

"Through?" Wayne asks; the two had stopped outside the briefing room that had been rearranged for the treaty negotiations.

"Yeah, should be," he sighs. Both officers look to the door.

"This is probably going to suck," Wayne says before composing himself.

The Marines at the door came to attention, as they had for every other entrant into the room, and the door snapped open. Wayne advanced on the door as his right hand switched down the volume on his radio; an alert tone would still come through at standard volume, but general command-band chat would not. Without that distraction, and with a competent pair of officers in the CIC to handle any matters that might crop up, Wayne prepared himself for the wall of sound to come his way.

Only, it was not a wall of sound and shouting and fury that assailed him, but a complete silence brought on by the entrance of the Star Admiral, as the two main parties of the negotiation, ZAFT and the Earth Alliance, stared at him accusatory. It did not take much in the way of imagination to understand why, either. The two representatives of the Earth Alliance and the one ZAFT military officer in the room sat down as Wayne and Gerald moved to their seats immediately inside the door. Even still, the dirty looks did not cease as everyone took or resumed their seats.

-x-

The reactions of the three groups present, and assuredly the reaction of the Star Admiral and the Century Commander, were all wildly different from each other.

Cagalli, the main speaking official for the neutral parties of the war, took solace in the arrival of the Star Admiral. She, more than even the other five with her, knew that the Magi were not given to their emotions, but to cold and rational honor in their conduct, and this negotiating would reflect that. The fact that both the senior Magi officers were armed with their typical sidearms, unlike everyone else in the room except probably Colonel Kisaka (and that concealed), only added to her comfort zone. Lastly, the fact that the location of the negotiations was deliberately scheduled to be conducted on the _Mjolnr_ only made things psychologically more advantageous to everyone except ZAFT and the Earth Alliance, mainly from the shock value of having to sign the cease-fire on the ship that thoroughly crushed their forces. The hard look in the eyes of the Century Commander only confirmed what she thought: the games were over, time had come for everyone to ante up or get the hell out of the casino.

Inside the mind of Eileen Canaver, it was a significantly different experience to finally see the man that had completely crushed ZAFT and the Earth Alliance. She had not had visual contact with any but a few of the Magi, the highest ranking thereof being the Galaxy Commander of Marines, who had delivered ZAFT the fair chance to surrender before having its military wiped out. Granted, after the shooting there was not much left in overall military strength for ZAFT, but that anything survived the frightful hands of the Magi was itself something nearly a miracle. Chairwoman Canaver found herself wondering how the Magi ran things and kept their society from falling apart if the military ran the whole affair, then came to the conclusion that she could probably take some liberties with a military officer. After all, for a society that prided itself on the fact that politics did not really exist in their government (at least in the expected fashion), for the Star Admiral to be facing off against a career politician gave her some maneuvering room to play with their sense of fair play, maybe even score a few advantages while enacting some much-needed reforms. After all, throwing a third monkey-wrench in the works, especially one that seemed pre-biased against Blue Cosmos and its supporters, would only make things easier for ZAFT in the long run, or at least she figured so.

Admiral Sutherland was the ranking survivor of the Earth Alliance 'Peacemaker' force, and after some heated argument, was able to convince EA headquarters in Ptolemaeus to call it off now while the Earth Alliance had a space force to save. After giving them a goodly amount of video transmitted from deceased ships as the Magi tore them apart, the EA brass lost heart for the battle and their bid to snuff out ZAFT and Coordinators. Admiral Sutherland was no friend to the likes of Coordinators, yet he was no fool and recognized that these Magi were only getting started, as the old euphemism went. Even the crater in the front of the _Mjolnr_ was measured and far from fatal, such was the power of Earth Alliance nuclear weapons when compared to Magi Warships. If everything he had done before September 27 was simply a calculated battle motivated by victory and anger, then said battle on the 27th was the first calculation he had made that was motivated by outright fear at a foe capable of tearing his forces apart easily. As such, his instructions were to try and gain some form of advantage in negotiations, but William Sutherland was more than willing to walk away from this one and stop shooting if it meant his ass was intact and lacking any (extra) boot imprints or was missing chunks.

At a glance, Star Admiral Wayne Centara knew he was in for the other half of the hellish roller-coaster ride, even despite the intentions he brought to the table. Magi position on this matter was dead simple, and not at all unfair: both sides stop trying to massacre each other, neutral parties are reinstated to their sovereignty, and preferably find some kind of middle ground between the four sides so that he could obtain the resources and time needed to fix the ship. With Cagalli looking almost desperate, Admiral Sutherland wearing a poker face but having other traits showing something akin to fear, and the almost-leer coming from the ZAFT representative, Wayne was getting the feeling that this was definitely going to be hellish, possibly also intellectually violent, and nothing short of venomous. _Don't expect Christmas cards from this lot_, Wayne thinks sardonically, staving off the threatening string of four-letter invective that was back-building in the rear of his mind.

After a few moments of silence and contempt, Wayne began by asking: "Shall we begin, or is there something the involved parties would like to begin by airing out off the record?"

"The Earth Alliance government objects strongly to your taking sides in the ongoing war, especially in the—"

"I have not declared nor recognized sides at this time, Admiral Sutherland. I simply acted to stop an evolving nuclear slaughter of civilians. Shall I now take sides, or shall we discuss an amicable cease-fire policy and go from there?" Wayne's tone and phrasing made one thing clear: he was not going to put up with posturing and wangst, he was here to settle things down and get on with it. Admiral Sutherland's expression clearly denoted that he did not like having to take that tact, nor the attempt of it, and definitely did not relish the thought of trying to go head to head with the Task Force after being spanked once already.

ZAFT got the message loud and clear. "The PLANT supreme council is ready to begin cease-fire negotiations," chairwoman Eileen Canaver says.

"Feh, we will begin, but the Earth Alliance would like to claim aggrieved status at the first available opportunity."

"You can file a paper to that effect, I'll have a form for you to fill out at the first break, and we will go over it at 0700 tomorrow morning."

"Paperwork?" the Admiral asks almost indignantly.

"My commanding officer will review it and make sure you get a fair shake in the end, over and beyond what reparations I may make, but record of the grievances has to be on file. The regs are fairly clear on that front, sorry," Wayne actually did sound apologetic about the matter, given he hated all things paperwork and bean-counter.

"Understood," the Admiral replies almost sarcastically. It did not take Wayne nor Gerald much in imagination to figure out that the Admiral planned on bogging the notorious Admiralty Review down with paperwork, though Wayne intended on having the Division Commander see to the grievances, not the sods that thought they commanded the Empire's Navy.

"Shall we begin for actual?" Nods around the table was answer enough. "Session 1, negotiations on a cease-fire accord between the Earth Alliance, Zodiac Alliance of Freedom Treaty, Emirate of Orb in representation of neutral parties on Terra, and Task Force Jokers Wild. Present date and time is 29 September CE 71, 0800 hours Lima. At this time, I would like the parties to break seal on the initial proposal of cease-fire terms."

Letter openers had been supplied to all three stations, though Wayne had ensured that they were dull enough that using them as weapons would be a stretch; he wanted to minimize bloodshed in the proceedings, though he was unwilling to have Marines stationed inside the room for fear of being considered intimidating. After seals were broken, eyes immediately began reading through the first page of actual transcript.

It did not take long. "Oh, no, you did not suggest that we would cease fire without laying the blame on them, did you?" Eileen Canaver says. "Someone has to take responsibility for this nightmare!"

"And then what?" Wayne asks. "You blame the Earth Alliance. The Earth Alliance blames you. What does that solve? Nothing. With blame laid, the animosity only increases, and the war begins anew in less than a year. Been there, seen that, picked up the body parts after it happened. Thus, I suggest a deliberately faultless declaration of cease-fire, that way everyone walks away without the knife in the back."

"There is merit in this proposal," Admiral Sutherland replies. "The Earth Alliance is amicable to a completely neutral cease-fire, though what mechanism do you propose to actually prevent militancy from rising again?"

"If, by which you mean arms reductions or arms limitations, I included none," Wayne replies immediately. "Simply stated, it does not matter if you have one gun or a thousand, they will sit in armories or hangars until such a time as they are called into service again. It would be intellectually dishonest for me to suggest a limit of arms that no side would in good faith adhere to, given the lives on the line at all times from aggressor parties."

"Then how about a mutual arrangement, then," Lacus Clyne begins. "As the Earth Alliance and ZAFT are both likely concerned about the armaments becoming a cause to justify war, I propose that all sides be limited in armaments by volume and classification, to an amicable number well below the first-strike threshold that you have commented on before, Star Admiral," she concludes smoothly.

_Damnable pacifistic airhead_, Wayne thinks crassly. "Go on," Wayne replies smoothly.

"I recommend a force structure of no more than six armored divisions and ten mechanized infantry divisions, or equivalent numbers, to not include naval assets and such."

"Impossible!" Admiral Sutherland replies immediately. "That proposal would reduce OMNI by two thirds! If we did that, insurgency would destroy our respective member nations inside of six months! Not to mention how easily the Magi or ZAFT could go through such a limited force with their forces."

"I agree, while such a reduction would be politic and preferable, I cannot in good faith ask the Earth Alliance to cut their own throats in much a manner," Chairwoman Canaver replies.

_What's her game, exactly_? Wayne asks himself mentally of Eileen, but covered up with his spoken word. "I repeat myself, but; a reduction in arms would not even qualify as a symbolic gesture to anyone in the know on such matters, it would simply be undercutting the nation's position. Additionally, such reductions for the Earth Alliance would indeed be suicidal, and no party at this table would like to see two thirds of the world below us in the flames of anarchy, would we?" the question was entirely rhetorical, but served its purpose well. Lacus looked from the ZAFT delegation to the Earth Alliance side, then down at the table.

And thus it continued...

-x-

(Time: 1015 hours)

Recess had been called, and the group shifted across the hallway to the Sniper Bar and Grill, where sections had been reserved for each of the delegations. Wayne and Gerald took perch at the bar, where Calamira was waiting.

"How goes?"

Gerald simply barks a chuckle. "About as well as everyone expected."

"Ouch," she replies sincerely. "Need anything?"

"Nope," Gerald replies.

"I have one, what is Eileen's angle? I can get where the EA is going, they're trying to save their asses before anything else gets mulched, and I get Lacus' position, she is being an airhead pacifist that does not live nor think in the real world, but ZAFT's position is sufficiently muddled that I can't figure out what they are trying to accomplish."

"I will look into it," Calamira replies. "Cagalli?"

"So far, so good for the firebrand of Orb. Neither side is really against Orb regaining its sovereignty, but talking them out of reparations may be a bit challenging."

"Reparations? Of what? Last I checked, it was Orb that has been categorically butt-fucked by first ZAFT, then the EA. Reparations should be the other way around."

"Tell that to the delegations staffed by six-year-old sibko brats, not we," Gerald says almost crassly.

"True," Calamira concedes. "Incoming in our baffles." (4)

"Nothing alcoholic, right?" the bartender asks Colonel Kisaka as he sits down.

"No, please. Tonic and lime?"

"Certainly," the bartender pulls the necessary jugs for said drink.

"What is Lacus' intention?" Gerald asks, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

"We are being outmaneuvered," Ledonir replies frankly. "Cagalli and I can't stave Lacus, Mu, and Murrue, and Waltfeld is waffling right now. You may end up standing on your own at the negotiation table, despite your already well-established position."

"It would not be the first or last time that Magi have stood alone and still managed to kick major rations of ass," the bartender answers for the two officers.

"You'd better pass along to Lacus that if she undercuts ZAFT and the EA with her pacifistic airhead hopes, she will blow her position at the negotiating table completely. I gave her three oblique warnings to soften her tack, if ZAFT gets in on her she will be completely out of the game and with no hope of influencing this outcome any more."

"You almost sound like you want that to happen, Star Admiral."

"She's overlooking plain damned history, Colonel. Fear starts more wars than arrogance and liebenstraum combined, especially after the turn of the Industrial Revolution. If she wants to instill fear in the parties, she can cut down the military might of both sides, but it will start the war again within two years, almost assured," Star Admiral Centara says.

"I don't think she has much grounding in history," Ledonir says.

"She does, most of it politically correct and some of it distorted from fact, the typical liberal and progressive taint," Calamira says. "I looked into her logic some time ago, and didn't like what I saw." the looks from Wayne, Gerald, and Colonel Kisaka were quite unusual. "What?"

"Never mind," Gerald grumps. "Better warn off the 'peace at all costs' faction, Colonel, or 'EA versus ZAFT, round two' will be far more bloody than round 1."

"Roger that," and without a further word he was on his way, with his drink.

-x-x-x-

(1 October CE 71, 0400 hours)

(In the demilitarized zone around Jachin Due)

"This is independent reporter Jess Rabble reporting from the neutral zone centered on ZAFT's Jachin Due space fortress," Jess begins his report, which was being retransmitted by ZAFT and the Earth Alliance, though the Magi had also agreed to beam it to a satellite for Orb—where it would go from there, no telling. Jess thought this could be his big break.

"Four days ago, what was thought to be the final stroke of the war for either ZAFT or the Earth Alliance came to a head, only with a far more bizarre conclusion than anyone could imagine. As ZAFT tried to maneuver the GENESIS nuclear laser—the last remaining part of it can be seen to the right of Jachin Due—and the Earth Alliance launched a desperate nuclear assault against ZAFT's space fortress and the PLANTs, a neutral faction interceded in the war and eliminated both nuclear arsenals before further civilian casualties could be sustained. In less than an hour of vicious warship and mobile suit battle, and a Marine invasion of Jachin Due resulting in the complete takeover of ZAFT's final defensive bastion, the battle ended in a stalemate for ZAFT and the Earth Alliance. "

The camera gun held by her Works GINN pans left, away from Jachin Due to a totally different and almost alien object. "The object you are seeing is not a malformed colony, it is a warship. This ship, belonging to a government that nobody has ever heard of, was stranded in the L4 colony area some four months ago and unable to return home. Within weeks, the ship had learned of the war and joined a neutral faction trying to stop the war before a nuclear massacre occurred. It would be this alliance that would turn the war around."

The camera zoomed in on the ship, specifically the bow-port of the ship where it had been struck by the nuclear missile. "This is the _Mjolnr_, named after the hammer of the Norse God of Thunder. Given the ship's architecture and arsenal, it is obvious this ship is not of ZAFT or Earth Alliance manufacture, and bears little resemblance to the fighting styles of any space navy known. The _Mjolnr_ masses roughly the same as the entire Jachin Due space fortress, with almost a thousand guns on the ship and more armor than the entire ZAFT warship fleet, this ship, its seven escorts ships, three ships from Orb and renegades of ZAFT and the Earth Alliance, and a myriad of mobile forces were able to stop both ZAFT and the Earth Alliance from further use of their nuclear arsenals, potentially using them on civilians. Just to make one thing clear, nuclear weapons were fired, and the section of the ship the camera is focused on right now is being repaired for nuclear blast damage. The _Mjolnr_ was used as a naval shield to stop an errant Earth Alliance missile from striking one of the Januarius colonies." (Jess did not believe the last bit was entirely accurate on the Magi's part, but since it was the official word and the Earth Alliance had said nothing to countermand it, he considered it close enough to be newsworthy.)

The cameras traverse the length of the ship, crossing over a flight of the Fireball Aerofighters. "I am presently working with Commander Glennaste Ward, the ship's secondary commander, to get more information on the ship, its purpose and intentions, but details are thin at this time due to the ongoing cease-fire negotiations. Apparently, the Magi are very leery of contaminating the negotiations with press intervention, though their explanation as to why is also lacking in real depth. We do have statements from ZAFT and the Earth Alliance to cover as to the negotiation proceedings, and will get to that in a moment."

The camera centered back forward, where one of the escort Monitors was detaching from the ship. "The smaller escort ship that is unlatching from the _Mjolnr_ is named _Hyperion_, and I am told by members of the Orb Warship _Kusanagi_ that this ship intercepted one of two missiles aimed directly at the PLANT colonies, where the second missile struck the _Mjolnr_ and detonated in the surface armor. The total casualties caused by that missile is listed at four crewmembers of the _Mjolnr_, all said to be unwilling to leave their posts even with a nuclear weapon strike on the ship imminent. I have been informed that the Magi are making a special exception to battle recordings and will have boresight camera footage available before the end of the day today."

The camera moved to and zoomed in on the silent Earth Alliance fleet, holding formation at a distance they believed to be out of range of the _Mjolnr_'s long reach. "From the Earth Alliance, we have received word that they consider negotiations to be going well. Admiral Sutherland has gone on the record and said that all parties are being very reasonable and accommodating of Earth Alliance strategic needs and goals. ZAFT Supreme Chairwoman Eileen Canaver has said that the Magi in particular and Orb with special mention have negotiated hard to provide a clear and neutral cease-fire accord that respects the rights of all parties involved in the final stages of this war."

"This is Freelance Journalist Jess Rabble, reporting from the neutral zone at Jachin Due. I will report again, live, at 1900 hours with any new information from the negotiations or our mysterious travelers, the fleet of the Jokers Wild."

-x-x-x-

(Time: 0430 hours)

For Kira, finding the way to the pilot's ready room on the _Dominion_ was no difficult task. The ship was so similar to his second home, the _Archangel_, that the layout was almost exactly the same. His guest ID even allowed him access to the room in question, something he almost did not expect.

"Hey, kids, what's up?" a lady in Magi Pilot's Armor asks. Athrun read her call-sign as being 'Cobalt', which was odd since most Magi Mobile Suit pilots did not go by call-signs.

"We're looking for, erm, 'Kingfisher' is his name?" Athrun says.

" 'Kingfisher' is it? Try the galley, he is on lunch break right now."

"Right here," said pilot declares. "For what do I owe the honor of a visit from the two best among the Three Ships?" Kingfisher begins the dialogue before taking a seat on the central couch for the pilots.

"We...we need to know how to get you to stop undercutting our representative at the negotiations."

"Lacus, right?" Kingfisher asks.

"Yeah. She's trying to prevent another war, and your commanding officer, Lightbringer, has done everything short of bury her in quicksand," Kira says.

Kingfisher chuckles. "She's trying to prevent a war only by way of ignoring how more than a few wars have been started. You may have heard of one of those such fracases, World War II, perchance?" Both pilots grimaced. "Oh yes, your politically correct history courses forgot to mention that by disarming and humiliating Germany after World War I, the Allies connived at their second great war by engineering the perfect preconditions of economic ruin and malcontent to give rise to the Nazi Party." Star Colonel Tellos, known as Kingfisher to most, leaned closer to the two pilots and gave them a hard stare, one sufficient to creep both of them out. "Earth has no shortage of malcontent right now. But no, let us disarm them, make the situation thirty times worse. It can only get better, can it not? How long will it be before you start understanding the history that you can parrot back to your instructors so readily?"

The look of pure frustration on Athrun's face told the tale faster than his words. "Come on, Kira, we'll have to talk directly to them about it."

"One moment," Cobalt requests, bringing all gaze to her. "You can have the best arguments in Existence for your intentions, but they are pointless in such matters of state and Fate. Only the strength of your convictions can sway the Century Commander on this matter. Talk is cheap, and the Magi have suffered enough lip service in sixteen millennia. Best you be willing to fight for your proposal, kiddies, or your words will fall on ears unwilling to listen to the bullshit and platitudes."

Silently, Kira and Athrun left the room, and were more than thirty meters down the hall before Athrun finally replied. "Damnit! Don't they see what they are doing?"

"We'll ask the Century Commander," Kira says almost consolingly. "They can't all be this blind."

-x-

_What was it the Star Admiral said yesterday? Fucking bean counters_? Gerald asks the AI entity by way of his neural implants.

_Indeed_, the ship's AI replies immediately. _Wait a second, you have guests. Athrun Zala and Kira Yamato_.

Moments later, the door buzzer goes off. "Who is?" Gerald asks plainly.

"Athrun Zala and one to speak to you, sir," the voice beyond the door replies over the intercom.

"Enter at will," he replies. The two pilots enter the stateroom of the Mjolnr, where Gerald was going over paperwork and operations plans pertaining to the negotiations today, and making notes on his changes in plans. "Ah, the aces of the _Eternal_, of what honor do I owe a visit?"

Kira and Athrun both sat down in the offered chairs, though neither said anything immediately. "Sir, we need you to allow Lacus to speak more freely in the negotiations," Athrun finally requests.

"Then what?" Gerald asks immediately thereafter.

"Uh, what?" Kira requests for clarification.

"I asked, 'then what,' if I remember my phrasing correctly. Not a hard question, when you get down to it. I let her run off at the mouth, then what happens? You should know this answer well enough."

"What? What do you mean I should know?" Athrun asks almost in a hostile fashion. "You—you all act as if you know exactly what the future holds!"

"There are beings in existence—eight of them to be accurate—that know **exactly** what the future holds. The three Fates: Urd, of the future, Skuld, of the past, Verdandi, of the present, all three know intimately the past, present, and future. The Executors of Ragnarok: Master Executor Erich Hess, Princess Hotaru Tomoe, not only do they know time back and forward, they _control_ time back and forward, always trying to ensure someone survives the final battles of Ragnarok. The Oracle: Ellone Rigbaldi, the only being known to have both psychic skills for understanding the distant future and reading the distant past. The Chronicler: Fieldmarshall Erich Hess, the commanding officer of Sigma, a mercenary unit that makes the ZAFT FAITH teams look like pussies, their commander is tasked from on high with recording the final moments of Existence, that the next generation to come along shall not repeat our mistakes."

"That was seven. Who's the last?" Kira asks.

"The last is an old friend of mind, a soldier who has suffered much and knows the histories intimately by having written them. The Will Transcendent of Existence, a being that most people would simply refer to as God, can see Existence back and forward because it is he that channels the history we simple mortals write," Gerald says, not being completely inaccurate about the Will Transcendent, but not telling the whole story and/or adding extra things to muddle the affair. "I have an idea what the future holds, and more to the point I know what Lacus wants, and what that shall cause. She wants pacifism. I cannot say I blame her, after you have suffered wars as I have, to lay down arms would be welcomed. However, rampant pacifism is not going to solve the problems here, and rampant pacifism is only going to ensure the complete annihilation of Existence in the end. Is that what you want to live with, Kira? Athrun? Do you want to end your days knowing the path you have set shall mean all is dead at some point in the future? Or will you give your descendants a chance to fight, and possibly survive the coming days of Ragnarok?"

There was only stunned silence from Kira and Athrun, the shock apparent on their faces.

"You're crazy," Athrun gasps after a half-minute's breadth. "You're batshit crazy, you have to be."

"If believing that war can be subverted by the simple means of telling people they cannot have weapons, if that is the measure of sanity, I will take being batshit crazy as a compliment, thank you."

"You keep looking for ways it won't work, why?" Kira asks.

"I am not looking, all manner of evidence is writ throughout history for this exact thing, for anyone who cares to remember who screwed up in the exact same fashion in days long past, kid." Despite the growing flush on Athrun's face and Kira's growing tension, Gerald remained stone-cold calm and serious throughout.

"This isn't the past, damnit! Today is today! Things will be different, we can make it that way!" Athrun half-shouts in clear and sharp response to Gerald's constant insistence of a set and grim future.

Gerald chuckles grimly at Athrun's outburst. The Century Commander's arm came up, and slowly balled his hand into a fist, then released it. "These hands have killed their way across countless dimensions, in wars large and small, against foes obvious and indeterminate. If they could drip a tiny fraction of the blood they have reaped, this room would assuredly be flooded crimson. Yours are lucky, kid, you have only one war to your name, a nasty one but only one. You are young enough to be eternally optimistic in believing the heart of man is not depraved, and in most cases you would be correct. The problem is the people Lacus is negotiating with, up to and including we Magi, are fighting for nothing more than survival in the face of certain annihilation at the hands of one or more of the other parties. Now, in what frozen-over Hell would you reasonably believe someone would disarm themselves when their neighbors have a clear track record of trying to commit _complete omnicide_ against everyone that does not match their idea of 'pure humanity' or 'evolved humanity'?"

"I'm through with this," Athrun says. "You're worse than Blue Cosmos and the ZAFT hard-liners."

The instant shift in demeanor of the Century Commander frightened Kira to complete silence and stillness. "Get the fuck out of my sight, boy. **Right now**."

"What? You are being—"

"Boy, if you make me get up, what will be left of you I will use as a hood ornament on my Neue Ziel. I have put up with your bullshit naivete and shortsightedness in a calm manner, but comparing blooded Magi soldiers to racist terrorist scumdogs is **FAR** past the pale. I will not tell you again," and Gerald points to the door out to the hall; "There is the fucking door, do not let it squash your sorry svashri ass on the way out. Is that clear?"

Without another word, Athrun left in a hurried manner and was glad to have the chance to retreat. "Erm, should I, er," and Kira points at the door.

"Neg, not necessary," Gerald replies in a somewhat calm fashion. "I have spent a lifetime in killing terrorists, before, during, and after they massacred civilians. I have cleaned up the body parts left over from their wanton and senseless attacks. I do not suffer terrorists, nor the governments that aid and abet them, as more than a few instances of Iran and Palestine have found out, not to mention several planetary states and four of six Star Empires. Were Athrun Magi-born, his sharp tongue would see him in the Trial of Grievance for that gross insult. And likely not to walk out of said Trial."

"Oh," Kira says, only now realizing the depth of Athrun's blunder. "Is...is there no recourse? You will not change your position?"

"Use your brains, kid. Trying to disarm everyone is not only counterproductive, it is a failed plan to begin with. Magi do not disarm, ever. You can have our weapons only by way of stepping over our dead bodies to collect them. At most, we may hangar a few units 'indefinitely' and that is it."

"Then...we really misinterpreted that one," Kira says.

"If you absolutely want the pink princess to keep flapping her lips without getting thrown out of the negotiations, your only recourse is a Trial of Possession for the right to front that theory without immediate censure. It will really be nothing more than wasted effort, neither ZAFT nor the Earth Alliance would go for it, and you know the Magi stance on disarmament: only after hell has frozen over and Satan rents out quarters on our ship."

"Does Satan....really exist? Given you know who God is?"

"All evidence points to 'neg' on that note, Kira. Though, given we've encountered everything from galaxy-traversing disembodied consciousnesses to Transcended humanoids (5), the possibility of Satan and/or an actual God existing somewhere is not entirely impossible. Just a matter of looking, I would say, should you be so inclined."

"Will...no, I think you can't get away with holding Jump technology secret forever," Kira opines.

"We expect to have to negotiate on that premise long and hard, but if we 'bass-ackwards' hill-rod Magi can build great fleets of Jumpships, so can the denizens of this planet."

Kira nods, expecting he would want to be in on such an engineering challenge. "All right, I have to at least try to get you to change your minds. How do I request a challenge?"

"I still say you are wasting time, effort, and chancing your life in battle to little or no gain, but if you still wish it so, file a challenge with Commander Ward or Strategic Officer Calamira, you can find them on the bridge."

"Thank you, sir," Kira says respectfully.

"You should not thank me. After all, when next we see each other, chances are high it shall be over the sights of our weapons. But I do thank you for at least not being as inflammatory as your comrade."

-x-

"The modifications are complete, Century Commander. That we scored some good beam claws from the deceased GuAIZ made the task easier. Putting the Heat Saber from Angel One's ground unit on your machine was a cake walk, of course."

"Excellent," Gerald replies. "The bazooka will be completely useless until we can reverse-engineer the Plasma Sabot from the Calamity's shells. Did Kika keep a beam bazooka for her Dom Tropen?" Gerald asks.

"Neg, she used a beam machine gun and heat saber. We can outfit you with just about anything in the arsenal, given your suit's special operations modifications."

"Damn," Gerald grumps. He wanted the power to obliterate Justice in one shot, and that kind of power required a buster rifle (easily dodged by a wary opponent) or a beam bazooka.

"You know, sir, maybe you should just severely humiliate and spank that fucking punk, not obliterate him," Calamira says.

"I'm more surprised he didn't just jack his shit up right there in the Stateroom," the Chief Mechanic for Angel Team says. "Seriously, calling a Star Empire's soldiers terrorists? Where the fuck does that arrogant brat get off? Fresh out of the sibko, not even shaving yet, and he thinks he can pass judgment on a Star Empire older than this planet's total recorded history?"

"Chill, man," Gerald replies calmly. Calamira could sense he was still pissed, but not in the white-hot sense, it was now a cold, determined fury. The same kind of fury that fueled the Magi for 3500 years and eventually gave them victory over some of the baddest mo-fos in Existence. "You know what? Give me a 60mm Gatling with some of my 'silver bullets'. That should be more than enough humiliation, wouldn't you agree?"

The smile on the face of the Chief Mechanic was more than ample for all three of the persons there. "Mount up, sir, I'll get you a gun worthy of the task."

Gerald climbed into the cockpit of his Gundam and began the process of locking himself into the restraining points. Calamira climbed in behind him to assist, though not necessary the pilots always welcomed the extra hand. _Seriously, avoid killing them, regardless of how offensive they are_, she requests telepathically.

_I will have to rough them up, but there is a good chance I will lose this one just as readily as I might win it_, Gerald replies in the same fashion.

Calamira finished up the last locking lug. "Come back alive, Century Commander."

The Armament Tug showed up with a 105mm machine gun taken from a Mobile Doll Leo that had been silenced months ago in the battle prior to the _Mjolnr_ coming to this dimension. "Got it loaded with your 'happy 105s' sir. You only have a partial mag of them, though, so be sparing. I also have two mags of APEX ammo for use on them in critical locations, like thrusters, weapons, and sensors," Gerald's Chief Mechanic radios to him.

"I won't need them," Gerald replies. "This will be over in the second decent clash, far from enough time to go through a full magazine, much less two more." Gerald switches the radio off during his movement to pick up the proffered machine rifle. "Comrade, confirm weapon systems recognition and readiness."

The battle computer took a few moments to verify all systems. "60mm Vulcans verified, ammo type PSAP. Beam Sabers verified. Heavy Weapons Space Shield confirmed all subsystems live. Modified right Combat Gauntlet verified. 105 millimeter machine rifle verified, ammo type PSAP. All weapon systems nominal."

Gerald turned on his radio again. "Control, this is Angel Zero, requesting permission to taxi."

"Angel Zero, Control, taxi authorized in your bay, launch via catapult three-niner-romeo at first available."

"Understood, Angel Zero is moving now." The Gundam moved forward and right, guided by a marshaller down the taxiway to the hydraulic catapult. Gerald did the usual routine of placement and bracing; "Angel Zero, ready for cat-shot."

"Angel Zero, catapult is on automatic. You may launch when ready. Good luck, Century Commander."

"Gerald Lightbringer, Physalis Heavy Weapons Modified, launching!" As soon as he jammed the jet throttle to the max, the catapult tripped and loosed him at an extreme velocity for a few seconds, then his own acceleration took over. Two course corrections and he was headed in the general direction of the battle lines.

"Attention trial participants, this is Star Commodore Jin Kojima, warship _Redland_. I will be acting as Trial Command for this engagement. This battle is for one match, unrestricted arsenal, Trial of Possession against the Magi as has already been declared and bid. Your bounds of engagement are limited to the declared neutral zone only; leaving the zone is grounds for disqualification, for terms of the mission profile your unit will be considered destroyed. Magi forces, declare ready op."

"Magi force, Gerald Lightbringer on Physalis Heavy Weps, ready op."

"_Eternal_ forces, declare ready op."

"Eternal force, Kira Yamato on Freedom, ready operation."

"Athrun Zala, Gundam Justice, ready operation," the emphasis he put on the word justice made it almost an insult to the Magi in its own right.

"All forces have declared ready operation. Trial will commence in three...two...one...go for Trial!"

"Kira, follow me in," Athrun almost growls.

"Athrun, don't get hasty. He normally drives a massive Mobile Armor, we don't know what he can do in a smaller machine," Kira cautions.

"Fear and hesitation in one, misguided rage and angst in the other," Gerald replies on their radio channel. "Misconception and blind idealism in the hands of those who build our fates, this alone is the price we pay for ignoring historical patterns and common fucking sense. And it shall be a heavy price to pay for eons to come."

"Where is he?" Athrun asks, moments before his systems alert him to the presence of an unidentified object. "There! Four o'clock low! C'mon, Kira!"

"Come, sibko brats, come! Show me your hatred of those who would understand history instead of following your blind idealism! Show me the strength of your convictions! Prove unto Existence you are better than the Magi!"

"Shut up!" Athrun shouts, punctuating his order with two shots of his beam rifle and a pair of rounds from the Fortis beam cannons on his Subflight lifter. "Shut up, damn you!"

"This is the nature of what you seek to squelch, surat!" The only beam weapons Gerald possessed were part of the Heavy Weapons (Space) shield, a modified Physalis shield that traded in the nuclear weapon and cooling systems for weapon space. Since he figured them unaware of his real armaments or destructive potential, he continued to close in, leaving the real weaponry for a surprise in close. "Conflict is the nature of Existence itself, you cannot squelch it, you cannot deny it, you cannot bury the human tendency to rail against its surroundings! It is as much a part of all consciousness as is the requirement to breathe, kid!"

"You're wrong!" Kira shouts, himself closing in after overcoming his hesitation. Gerald took the hits from the railguns and beam rifle on the Freedom by way of blocking them with his shield. "People aren't like that!"

"I pity you who would ignore your own reality!" Gerald unlatches the heat saber and energizes it. "Hai!" His first slash against Athrun was a miss only on the barest of dodges from the Justice pilot. "You can deny your surroundings only until they destroy you, kiddies!"

"Bah!" Athrun draws his beam saber and charges in counter, determined to force the battle in his favor if for no other reason than to shut up the arrogant asshole in the strange Gundam.

Clash, clash, the slice of Athrun's beam saber never made it past Gerald's shield, just as the heat saber never bypassed the shield of the Justice.

"Athrun!" Kira shouts, having flanked Gerald; in a position to decapitate the Physalis, Kira took the shot, but a moment prior to the squeeze of the trigger Gerald hammered his jets and moved enough of the shield into position to stop the shot. To keep Athrun off balance, Gerald thrust at the Justice twice, once a miss, the second slamming into and penetrating through the shield of Justice, though not far enough to reach the Gundam behind it.

"Bah! I want my sword back, asshole!" Despite his wording, Gerald had switched to the heavy-duty beam sabers that were practically infamous on the Physalis.

"Come and get it!" Athrun connected the second beam saber to his first, making a beam lance, and closed the gap again. Once more, sword and shield ground against each other, the larger Physalis using its powerful thrusters to drive in against the Justice and keep the pilot off balance. "Damn, stalemate!"

"Not quite, kid," Gerald replies coldly. Four circular impressions in the wide edges of his shield (where cooling vents would be on a standard shield) launched clear, each of the red cylinders opening up like a flower.

"What?" Athrun shouts, momentarily distracted by the flying objects launched from his shield.

"Now you see why the Negaverse calls me the Archangel of Death!" Kira managed to intercept one of the four with a beam rifle shot, but the other three struck hard and fast against the Justice. One beam to remove the left leg, one to disable the engines on the sub-flight lifter, and a third through the left shoulder and forearm in a double-penetration. "EIYAH!" With the shield of the Justice compromised, Gerald shoved in with his advantage, bypassing the compromised shield and severing first the entire left arm with an upswing, then continued his pattern with a backstroke intended to remove the head of the Gundam. Before Gerald could complete the swing, Justice was on the move, and managed to score a hit by grinding down the Physalis shield and off the bottom edge, catching the left foot of the Magi Gundam and removing it at the ankle. "Trivial damage! You will not escape me!" Despite Kira killing off another of the Funnels, the two remaining retargeted and fired on Athrun again, and this time the results were less in his favor. One shot went through the left shoulder and into the body of the Justice at a strange angle, the other through the hip plate and caused his main propellant tank to cook off spectacularly. "The final stroke!" Gerald shouts as he closes in with his beam saber set to impale. Athrun, half-dazed from the explosion inside his machine, could do naught but watch in disconnected horror as the Mage struck, impaling Justice fatally in the lower torso, missing the reactor but severing the neural linkage that gave him control of the machine.

"Athrun!" Kira shouts. The Justice did not explode, but Kira could see the eyes of the Gundam shut down, a sure sign that at least the fail-safes were working.

"I'm alive...I think..." Athrun replies.

"You are next, whelp," Gerald says calmly.

"NO WAY!" Kira shouts, firing everything he had at Gerald. The strike of two more Rail Gun slugs caused an explosion in the lower part of his shield, but the beam weapons only scorched paint off his shield.

"Not bad, kid, but you must do better! Show me your convictions!" Gerald had backtracked his Gundam to where the Justice lost its arm, to recover his heat saber. With a hand on the hilt, Gerald kicked into the surface of the shield with his Gundam's remaining foot to draw out the blade. With a flair brandish, the Physalis racked the sword and set shield, ready for Kira's next strike.

"Have some of this!" Kira shouts in clear defiance, six shots of the apparently-effective Xiphas rail cannons came Gerald's way, though forewarned and with distance available to him, he was able to clear the shots easily. "Gah! You're not all show!"

"The show is just beginning, pilot," Gerald replies as four more Funnels launch from his shield, putting six out and about. "And now I am close to the edge of Existence itself..." with a flick of a single switch, the radio channel became haunted with something Kira was not expecting. Kira sometimes listened to whatever his friends were listening to, and lately he had grown accustomed to the pagan/power/orchestral Metal the Magi relished, though the song he was assailed with was far from any of the above—and even more distracting. Kira had listened to Club music once, and immediately was dissuaded from it, and now he remembered why: the mix and constant repetition of elements in the music only served to distract him. As the song Solex (Close To The Edge) by Michael Woods really took off, Kira found himself less and less able to focus properly, until the closing enemy Gundam triggered something buried in his consciousness.

"I won't let you," Kira replies calmly. His mind goes clear, almost tranquil as his consciousness steps into the Superior Evolutionary Element Destined Factor.

"Whoa, holy fuck!" Gerald half-shouts, sensing the change in his foe and immediately seeing the net effect as his Gundam began moving with faster pilot's reaction. "This—no way! DAMN!" Much as he tried to hit the Freedom several times with beams from the Funnels, Kira dodged all six shots with grace and even intercepted two of the Funnels in one swift pair of shots. "Finally! A worthy challenge after all these years!" Two beam rifle shots impact on his shield but go no further as he begins maneuvering to close in on the Freedom.

"Go down!" Kira shouts as he fires his weapons in four directions at once, the plasma cannons and beam rifle aimed to the Funnels, the Rail Cannons aimed at the Physalis. All struck, depriving Gerald of all but one of his active funnels, thought the rail cannons missed by mere meters.

"I am become the Angel upon the edge of Existence itself, the reaper of solace and hand of Transcendence." As Kira watched the maneuvering Physalis, he thought he saw the space around it glow a smoky blue-green, but he fired still upon the Physalis. "My wings are the guide and shield of all life, that the darkness may never claim all Existence in its depraved grasp," and Kira was stunned motionless by the sight of four massive blue-tint angelic wings, apparently coming from the Physalis itself, each wing larger than the _Eternal_ was itself long.

"What the hell is this?" Kira asks, now more frightened than determined. To the _Archangel_, its crew and comrades, the fact that the Magi were founded by wizards and regularly practiced it was no secret, but the Star Admiral had said there were none on his ship, and now this? "Is this...an illusion? Or is this...really you?"

"You will serve the counter purpose no more!" It was all Kira could do to avoid the first stroke of the beam saber from the Physalis, but the second he countered with his own beam saber. He was not expecting the second beam saber in the left hand, which chopped through both the legs of the Freedom at mid-thigh, the damage indicators screeching of the lost limbs and lost maneuvering options.

"DAMNIT!" Kira countered immediately with his Xiphas cannons, the left nicked the inside of his foe's right arm, the right cannon's slug tore into the left shoulder of the Physalis and sheared it clear off the Gundam with little hesitation. Of the Balaena plasma cannons, one missed, the other struck dead-center on the head of the Physalis, obliterating it in one fell swoop.

"This engagement is done!" and before Kira could begin to move away, the remaining active funnel sliced through the left shoulder of the Freedom, giving Gerald the opening he needed to slash in against the torso of Kira's Gundam, though Kira was not caught unawares and countered with a similar stroke. Both machines struck simultaneously, Gerald's saber finding the upper neural linkage and severed it before the stroked ended in the reactor cooling loop and shut the Freedom's engine down permanently. Kira's stroke went high and horizontal through the left shoulder, chopping through armor and cooling systems, only to end on the edge of the fusion reactor housing with the same result of a disabled engine.

Just like that, the battle was completed.

"What...oh my God, what are you?" Kira asks, his whole body trembling from the exertion, the fear, the sight of the wings, and the melee itself. The hapless Freedom pilot held his hands up in front of his face, the shaking visible and severe, his breathing ragged from exertion and panic.

"I am the Archangel of Solace, bound forever to those who wish not to go quietly into the night. I will not rest until it is assured that Existence is not damned to annihilation in the days of Ragnarok. So is my duty written, so shall it be."

If Gerald could sound any colder, how was lost on those who were listening in on the channel.

-x-x-x-

(same day, 0845 hours)

The battle two hours past had obviously changed the paradigm, despite the technically inconclusive result. On a double-kill outcome (where both sides were defeated at the conclusion of the battle), neither side's position advanced. In this case, however, Captain Ramius, Commander La Flaga, and Lacus Clyne had not come to the negotiations. Waltfeld was present and actually assisting Cagalli instead of waffling like he did the day prior. Gerald, due to his involvement, was also not present but had relayed that he would be at the meeting.

"Now that we have resolved the actual cease-fire accord, what is the next matter on the agenda?" Admiral Sutherland asks respectfully. The battle had been close enough to the Earth Alliance lines that they could watch every stroke of the beam saber, and confidence in Magi ass-kicking skills had shot up threefold with the demonstration that one Magi Gundam was a match for the two undisputed badasses from this planet. Or, at least that is how EA intelligence and analysis interpreted the results of the battle. The Magi were a bit leery to call it as such, though ZAFT knew they had no personnel capable to the task of matching a Magi Gundam at this time, even Commander Joule and his team were not up to the task. ZAFT military research was already stepped in plans to develop new and better Gundams for the next round, which they figured would be one hundred percent inevitable since this war ended on such a bizarre note.

"Prisoner exchanges," Wayne offers.

"Prisoner exchange?" Eileen Canaver replies, not even thinking of such an edifice. After mentioned, though, the logic of such was clear-cut and writ.

"Concur," Admiral Sutherland replies. "We have some ZAFT and a few Magi prisoners, and if I don't miss my guess, the Magi have almost a full fleet's worth of ours. Not to mention, ZAFT probably has a few of the Magi and some Alliance prisoners, so..."

"Huh? A whole fleet?" Eileen Canaver asks, looking at the Star Admiral. The sound of the door opening draws eyes from the Star Admiral up to the new entrant.

"My apologies for my delayed arrival," Century Commander Lightbringer says. "A professional dispute with two pilots from the _Eternal_."

"And?" Wayne asks.

"They now know better than to dispute my professional opinion," Gerald says after he takes his seat. The look of consternation on Cagalli's face was significant, so Gerald relented. "Just 'disassembled' their Gundams, no major injuries to the pilots. So, where stand we?" If anything, the look of consternation on Admiral Sutherland's face (and that of his subordinates) was even more significant than Cagalli's had been.

"Just beginning on today's matters of prisoner exchange," Wayne says.

"Ah, then I have not missed the interesting part," Gerald settles into his usual posture that gave him excellent peripheral vision of the various parties.

"I would like to begin by asking a serious, on-the-record question of the Magi pertaining to your soldiers," one of the ZAFT Commanders with the Chairwoman begins. "Your soldiers, they offer themselves to us as Bondsmen. Is this real, or are they crazy?"

"Some would consider them crazy, but not within our own ranks." Wayne replies. "If a Mage offers himself to you as bondsmen, you would be fool to ignore it, even if you use him no more than as training cadre and intelligence on what the Magi really are. We are bound by our honor and word, and those few who can defeat us have the opportunity to utilize the vanquished." Wayne shifts in his seat. "I will have a primer on the code Zellbrigen, the code of conduct that Magi follow in most circumstances, delivered to you at the next break. You will find it most useful in dealing with the captured, but keep in mind that not all Magi will make such an offer. Some would simply surrender under the Geneva, Hague, or Aries Convention regulations, and for they I request you follow the requested procedures."

"I shall," Eileen promises.

"This is a bit unusual," the Captain next to Admiral Sutherland says. "Of the six prisoners we captured alive, only one of them offered himself as a bondsman, the others requested Geneva Convention surrender."

"Interesting," Gerald says. "Not even during the nastiest of the Star Empire Wars would eighty percent of Magi prisoners refuse a term of bond. Quite interesting. I will need to inquire upon the exchanged as to why they did so."

"Regardless, it is the recommendation of the Magi that all persons captured, excepting those captured who request to serve their captors as Bondsmen, be released amicably and without delay upon the ratification of the cease-fire accord," Wayne fronts. "With the exception of known war criminals, of course."

"This will include the personnel captured during the fleet action on or about the 26th of September, correct? A small reinforcement and escort fleet centered on the _Thrones_, if you need a more direct idea which," Admiral Sutherland prompts.

"Aff, certainly. Gerald, how many ships survived that skirmish?" Wayne asks.

"3 _Drake_-class, 5 _Nelson_-class, and the _Thrones_ itself. Angel 2 and Angel 3 allowed recovery of crew from the disabled or destroyed ships, though they admitted there was not much left of some of the ships, and less of the crew."

"And then there is the crew of the _Dominion_, captured in battle in L4, who will also be returned unharassed. If you so wish, you may speak with said crew, they are in the brig not far from where we sit, Admiral."

"I would welcome it. The Captain of the _Dominion_, Natarle Badgiruel?"

"Alive and uninjured, despite the hellish beating said ship took prior to its surrender."

"And a VIP on that ship?" Sutherland asks in series.

"He was taken alive, though determined to be a spy under the Geneva convention regulations as well as a war criminal. It is our intention to hand him over to the affronted parties to deal with him as appropriate."

"You will not negotiate on this?" Admiral Sutherland requests.

"Neg," Wayne replies deadpan. "There is a price to pay for certain actions, and it shall be paid. Should ZAFT decide to return him, that is in their hands, not ours." There were no further inquiries. "Then we are agreed on the terms of prisoner exchange?"

"ZAFT sees nothing to object to in this line of negotiation."

"The Earth Alliance is willing to accept the terms as you have laid out." The status of Murutha Azraiel had been discussed earlier in the day during the grievance review, and his involvement in the Junius Seven massacre could not be overlooked by the Magi. ZAFT would be the persons to deal with him.

"Thus is it ratified. Next matter up on the block is space defense territories, what we Magi commonly call a Space Defense Identification Zone," Wayne explains. "Common practice among the Star Empires is a two-stage area, an outer area where a craft must have an active transponder, and an inner area where positive identification, a filed flight plan, and permission to be in that area. Commonly, this is considered to be 1800 kilometers for the interior area, and another 1800 kilometers for the external area for military stations and triple that for civilian colonies and territory."

"And the purpose of this is what?" Eileen Canaver asks. "Besides to make space militant."

"Simple. Junius Seven was a veritable surprise attack, even if the nuclear strike did not occur until most the way through the battle, if I am understanding the battle correctly. A SDIZ is a legitimate patrol area where your forces have the right to challenge any craft that approaches, and gives you forewarning of an impending attack."

"And this would not be considered a provocation?" she asks in counter.

"No, it is expected. Every nation has a right to protect their legitimate interests and territory. As such, quantified boundaries would prevent misunderstandings between the states and neutral parties or between the states themselves..."

And thus it continued...

-x-x-x-

(2 October CE 71, 0100 hours)

(ZAFT territory, PLANT Aprilius One)

After Patrick Zala turns off the television unit, he simply sits there and stares at it.

There never was reticence for his actions. He did what he had to do, what he thought he had to do to save the PLANTs, and if that meant proving Coordinator superiority by cooking the people on the planet below him, so be it. Except, the Magi were right. The problem would never be solved by such an omnicidal stroke, it would only damn the PLANTs to a long and agonizing starvation death. Similarly, Earth's 'problem' with Coordinators could not be solved by nuking the PLANTs, since doing so would bombard the planet with chunks of colonies, which would end in death of all life on the planet.

After some thought, the Magi only had it partially right. Some annihilation had to be practiced, or there would be nothing but war between Coordinators and Naturals for millennia to come, maybe longer. Even they had to admit they had a checkered past on the subject of long-ass wars, theirs had lasted 3,500 years of off-and-on all-out war. Patrick could not readily imagine what a war lasting 3500 years would look like, especially invoking the scales of the Star Empires as this airhead Jess Rabble had tried conveying. No shit it would take several planets worth of tax revenue to run the _Mjolnr_ without crippling economies, the PLANTs could not afford a ship like it, nor could they engineer something as brutally simplistic as the behemoth that had shredded both the Earth Alliance and ZAFT.

His attention was drawn to the phone as it rang. The identification came up as Joule, Ezalia, someone that Patrick figured would call after the news report. Without hesitation, he hit the video conference accept button, and was treated to a picture of Ezalia with her hair wrapped up in a towel.

"Morning," he began the conversation. "Starting early, or ending late?"

"Starting early," she replies, having been notorious for keeping weird hours when on the council, yet never missing a meeting. "I take it you just saw what I just saw."

"Yeah, I did."

"Well, Eileen is not selling us up the river. She even managed to score a few concessions at the negotiating table that I thought neither the Magi nor the Earth Alliance would give up, such as a massive space defense and identification zone and free transit of non-military transport craft, with prior approval."

"Those are trivial points," Patrick says. "The core issues will not be resolved until the Earth Alliance recognizes our sovereignty and right to live."

"I know," Ezalia replies quietly. "At least the Earth Alliance is distracted by the presence of the Magi, who I have found out literally cannot go away."

"The jump engine in their ship melted down," Patrick says, having heard the same thing from their Galaxy Commander of Marines shortly after the takeover of Jachin Due. "We are stuck with them, regardless of how much we like it."

"Keep in mind, they are stuck with us, which probably gives them more heartburn than vice-versa," Ezalia replies fairly.

"At least they intrinsically hate Blue Cosmos, which is a point in our favor."

"How so?" Ezalia requests, not entirely sure what Patrick meant.

"A line in their Remembrance, their great history. I quote: 'be wary the ethos of Blue Cosmos, for the path to hatred is based on the genetics, not on the person.' "

"That? In their history? They said they never encountered this dimension or anything similar to it!"

"I don't know, I won't pretend to know, they don't know, and they are not going to guess. The soldier that wrote that line, their first Emperor, he is presupposed dead at this time."

"And then there is the fact that not only do they use Coordinator techniques similar to ours, they build people in gene tanks and gestate them artificially. That is going to make Blue Cosmos real happy real fast," Ezalia says at her most cynical.

"Yeah," Patrick says almost mirthlessly. "They will tie up Blue Cosmos for us, and ZAFT can swoop in with a good pretense and annihilate them from the side."

"If the next chairperson has the spine to do so," Ezalia tacks on. "Look, I had best forewarn you. They told me today, they will probably tell you tomorrow, we are going to be expatriated and deported soon. Do you have anywhere you can fall back on?"

"No, not really," Patrick replies. "All my family is dead courtesy of these Blue Cosmos scum, except for Athrun. You?"

"My sister is in Orb, I will see if she can put me up for a few until I get back on my feet."

Patrick chuckles grimly. "After...after all I have done, I have no right to ask Athrun to do anything for me." Patrick was silent for a few moments, looking away from the phone. "I may be alone, now."

"Have you considered what the Magi will do now?"

"If I don't miss my guess, they will take up residence in L4 and try to repair their ship or call for assistance from their own government." Patrick was silent again, but only for a brief moment. "You are not suggesting...them?"

This time, it was Ezalia with the grim chuckle. "Face it, Patrick, they are the only people you have not hacked off lately. Even I gave thought to asking them for asylum over the course of the day as I read through the reports coming in from my sources. And who knows, they may succeed in bringing down Blue Cosmos where ZAFT failed."

"No chance of that," Patrick replies haughtily, though even to himself the rebuke aired hollow. "Besides, what would you do in their society?"

"My background is in aerospace engineering, I think I can learn a few new tricks and put my talents to good use. You are a historian, and Magi respect history like nobody else around here, so I do not think it would be too hard for you to find a decent career among them, especially if they end up their own government."

Again, Patrick chuckles grimly, which segues into something almost humorous in terms of laughter. "A washed-up near-dictator in a society of military and freedom, teaching an inconvenient history to the people? Well, I could think of worse things."

"Such as?"

"Dying in a ditch somewhere, covered in petrol, on fire." Ezalia grimaced severely at the thought. "That is how Adolf Hitler went out, after consuming most of the world in the flames of war. And yet, we damn near did the same thing again, and the Magi even pointed it out to us."

"They also pointed it out to your son, with an appropriate spanking for ignoring history," Eileen adds to his maudlin musing. "Lacus Clyne was trying to get unilateral disarmament, and the Star Admiral rammed it down her throat until she choked."

"Good," Patrick replies, still not having any love for the Clyne family.

"Well, Athrun and Kira got all hot and bothered about it, and tried playing the Magi's game of ritual combat to force the issue in their favor. They blew it big-time. Reports are sketchy at best, but for all intents and purposes Justice and Freedom were damaged beyond usable, at only the cost of one Magi Gundam. Reportedly, Lacus Clyne and the defectors from the Earth Alliance were not present at the negotiations today...yesterday, I guess it would be."

"Damned brat, trying to screw everyone over for her 'ideal world'. That is exactly how the major European powers laid the groundwork for World War Two."

"And the Magi said the exact same thing, but she did not listen. Or, more appropriately, she did not listen until after she had a Magi boot applied to her butt and both her 'knights' had been thoroughly traumatized in battle," Eileen almost sounded smug about the outcome.

This time, it was a sardonic, almost resigned chuckle from Patrick. "A lesson in humility, it sounds like."

"Yeah, you could call it that," Eileen replies quietly.

"A lesson we all have received at their hands," Patrick muses. "There must be a lesson in their arrival here, and their actions." He glances at something else in the room, then back to the phone.

"There are bigger things in Existence than we can ever imagine?" Ezalia opines.

"No, any human in touch with their own sense of life can tell you that," Patrick replies. "I cannot really phrase what I want to say, what I believe is the lesson, but the significance...it must be something to do with honor, I think. Something we have gone away from."

"Lack of honor has destroyed many countries great and small, I guess. Maybe ZAFT is next, maybe the Earth Alliance is next."

"Maybe," Patrick muses. He sounded fatigued, both of body and of spirit, and both were readily apparent to Ezalia.

"Maybe. I won't keep you up any longer, Patrick, you sound like hell."

"I feel as I have been at its gates, Ezalia. Good evening...err, good morning, I guess."

"Good night," she concludes the call before canceling the video link.

-x-

(Same day, 0215 hours)

(Warship _Mjolnr_, primary bridge)

_Soldiers, they were, but far from beyond the pale_, Calamira concludes her mental summary. _Were I in their position, I might have done the same_. She considered that they were right, L4 was likely the new home of the Task Force, and a request for asylum from those two might be granted, if she could present them favorably. They were patriots, not monsters, despite the things they appeared to do. They may be able to find their redemption and true home among the Magi, if they would be willing to try.

"You stand lost in thought," Helmsman Willy says. "Something wrong, Strategic Officer?"

"Neg, not wrong, something is going right," Calamira replies.

"Of course, ma'am, we're on the job. Find me a junkyard; I'll unscrew it and organize the leftovers by type, make, model and year."

"This from the guy who spends almost as much time as Clotho Bauer in the Club 300 and gets no action?" Chief Warrant Officer Esmeralda, the suborbital fire control officer, answers haughtily. Clotho's complete lack of aptitude with the opposite sex was rapidly becoming infamous throughout the ship, though not of the form of infamous that caused people to lock doors when said person walked by.

"And when was the last time you got any action without the guy or girl involved gagging your loud mouth?" Willy asks in counter.

"Come over here and say that, dipshit," Esmeralda counters sharply.

"I would, but there isn't enough duct tape and paper bags on this ship to make it worth my time."

"Enough, you two," Calamira orders forcefully. "Good Gods, do you ever quit?"

"Certainly not, ma'am," Esmeralda says. "For some problems, there just is no solution."

"I got your solution right here, superbitch," and the 'fuck you' arm bar pump was clearly visible to most of the bridge.

"All right, sibkin, shut up," Calamira orders more forcefully.

"Aff, ma'am," both reply immediately.

-x-x-x-

(same day, 1030 hours)

"Thus, we are agreed that Orb will be repatriated and recognized as an independent state forthwith?" Eileen says. _The more stalking horses, the better_, she thinks almost sharply. She was no stranger to using force of numbers to achieve political ends, and in this case those ends would be the perfect marriage of concurrent needs between Orb, the Magi, and ZAFT.

"The Earth Alliance is willing to withdraw from Orb, only under the precondition that Orb does not sell its military technology to either ZAFT or the Magi for the time being. Additionally, I would also front the condition that the Magi may not sell nor give your military-grade fusion reactor technology away to any party, ZAFT, Orb, or neutral."

"The Magi will recognize this as a valid precondition only under the provision that this will be renegotiated to a favorable arrangement for Orb during the full peace treaty negotiations or no later than one year from the ratification of the cease-fire. To not allow Orb to export military gear to interested parties would stifle their economic rebuilding, given Morgenroete is one of their major economic powerhouses. Additionally, on the terms of our mil-spec fusion reactors, the only way you shall receive such devices is by way of stepping over our dead bodies to take them. I will not even entertain batchall (6) on such devices, given the potential destructive capacity in our latest engines, much less the military ramifications."

"This term is acceptable," Admiral Sutherland reluctantly says.

"It is unfortunate that you will not be flexible on your fusion engines, but we will accept the terms as listed," Eileen says.

"The neutral parties accept the terms," Cagalli declares calmly.

"Very well, this provision is ratified and shall take effect on signing of the cease-fire."

"One thing remains," Eileen says. "Now that you have stopped the shooting war, Star Admiral, what shall your task force do?"

"Colony group L4 is veritably uninhabited, abandoned to the ravages of the war. Additionally, it has come to my attention that several of the derelict colonies are orbitally unstable, and may be conflicting with the planet below us in short order. I was thinking, maybe clean up the run-down neighborhood, stay out of your way while I get my ship fixed up and jump worthy?" Wayne posits as his opening position.

"ZAFT has no major objection to this arrangement," Eileen says. "In fact, that is a very practical solution to quartering the Task Force, when weighed against the alternatives."

"The Alliance headquarters predicted you would front that solution," Sutherland begins. "It has also come to our attention that the original production costs have thus far not been paid off for those colonies, much less the horridly expensive PLANTs. The corporations to which those colonies are beholden need their just dues, Star Admiral."

"Very well," Wayne replies, expecting this line of argument. "In such a case, I propose forty percent salvage value at Junk Guild salvage rates as compense to the proprietors, to be renegotiated with additional or alternate means of compensation at the primary peace treaty negotiations."

"What rate of salvage intake do you expect?" Admiral Sutherland asks.

"Between L4, the void of space, Heliopolis, and the debris belt itself, I expect a mean salvage reclamation of about 10,000 tons per day to begin, with expected weekly increase of about 2000 tons as L4 is cleared and colonies come online, allowing more personnel to focus on salvage operations. Call it a top of thirty thousand tons at full swing."

"That is aggressive," a ZAFT industrial engineer replies. "If you can reprocess the salvage, Star Admiral, ZAFT would be willing to pay you going rate or better for the manufactured materials and goods."

"I will have to talk to some of my engineers about remanufacturing and the detail work involved, but it is not entirely out of the question. Would the Earth Alliance or Orb be willing to commit to such?"

"Orb shall commit what we can, especially if the Magi are willing to work out a line of credit on the process," Cagalli replies.

"I can talk to the industrial associations, but I would not hold out much hope on that account. Still, your offer is well beyond expectations, Star Admiral. How do you plan on executing such a feat of manpower and logistics?"

Wayne smiles. "The Magi are the only government known in Existence to beat out Greenpeace at the whole environmental schtick and do it without the radical environmental terrorism routine. We routinely recycle and salvage what others would scoff at. Cleaning up dirty orbital belts and space debris is nothing new to even the combat arms of the Magi. Trust me, if you can keep the attack dogs from hounding us, we will make good on those numbers and then some."

The derisive sniff from the Admiral was answer enough for Wayne. The Star Admiral would have to keep in mind that Blue Cosmos would soon be in among the refugees inevitably headed his way, and to deal with them accordingly. For that, he had Commandos. "Very well, the Earth Alliance accepts the base proposal. I take it you will want a SDIZ as well?"

"I will settle for a standard SDIZ, nothing as extravagant or padded as ZAFT has requested," and a sideways glance to Eileen reminded her that she only got that much on the sufferance of the Magi.

"Very well, the Earth Alliance approves the measures as declared."

"ZAFT concurs," Eileen says after a few moments of contemplation.

"Very well, all outstanding and requested issues have been dealt with. I will have copies of the accord printed and delivered to you within the hour. Might I suggest a lunch across the hall while the documents are prepared for your review?"

Much to his surprise, Wayne knew the arguing was simple and quiet this time around, the next round would be far louder than he could imagine.

He would not be disappointed.

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

The cease-fire accord is done, the war is technically over as of 3 October CE 71, 1200 hours. Orb is now a nation restored, the Magi have their own grounds away from the other superpowers, there will be no immediate fighting for some time to come, and something akin to progress may be in the cards.

As to why things went smoothly, well, the dice rolls for the parties are as follows:

EA: 91 out of 100 (Scared shitless and willing to pull the plug ASAP),  
ZAFT: 76 out of 100 (Know they are almost at death's maw but willing to do a little gambling)  
Orb (Cagalli): 69 out of 100 (still favorable to Magi positions)  
Archangel / Eternal: 23 out of 100 (Will do their damndest to push Lacus' 'ideal world' scenario).  
Neutral Media: 57 out of 100 (Neutral to all parties)

On the other hand, the Junius Treaty looms ahead in the months to come, and plenty can go wrong between then and now. Specifically, Blue Cosmos is not going to be happy that Azraiel was effectively handed over to ZAFT as a war criminal after being taken alive and held as Dezgra by the Magi. ZAFT is not truly happy about having to restore Orb to sovereignty, after their involvement in the EA G-weapons project, but negotiations like this are a case of give-and-take, and ZAFT took more than they gave by a long shot.

As to Gerald's appearance during the fight, Anyone who has seen Char's Counterattack should recognize at least part of what was happening: a psychoframe reaction. For the rest, I will leave it up to your imagination quite deliberately.

My apologies for the lack of advancement on my writing, despite being laid off at this time my speed of writing has not been all that fast. Much happens even when you officially have nothing to do, follow? Even given the angsty, almost depressing conditions, I will continue my writing. I swear I will never surrender! Lol.

That's pretty much it. Next up: The Task Force has a new home, and new problems to go along with that new home. Not that this was unexpected, but...

* * *

Review Replies: I got a lot of reviews from this last chapter, probably from the nature of the decisive battle. As of right now, I am at 5.66 reviews average per chapter. Much thank you all for the support :)

**Frasermage**: I'll wager good odds on that, and good odds that things are not going to go well for anyone involved in that.

**Rickrolled**: Much thank you for the compliment.

**Deathzealot**: Such powerful machines as Sazabi or Nu Gundam are exceedingly rare among Magi, as pilot have to qualify to a minimum standard for what they use, and the powerful Newtype machines (Quebley, Psycho Gundam, Sazabi, Nu Gundam, etc.) have very steep capability curves. As to Talia, she will play a very expanded role in this story and coming side stories or sequels, I don't like how she was practically thrown under the bus in Destiny.

**One Village Idiot**: Yes, I do roll new dice for each story. Yes, the original was quite different, and it was reflected here, though the net outcome remained fairly close to the same.

The Magi do a lot with robotics, and you will see a lot of that in chapters to come, but there are limitations even now with the capabilities needed and what can be provided. As to UAV and UCAV, yes, they are used, but more common are UGCV (Unmanned Ground Combat Vehicles), which you will see in the updated Inferno in Chicago and possibly in the main storyline systems.

No mixing involved, though not even all the Magi know of the presence of the androids yet, much less ZAFT or the EA. The Dice shall have to answer that one in due time, of course :)

There are multiple answers to your final question. Yes, Magi do survive their wounds when they lose a limb (sometimes), and there are multiple options for replacements. The 'basic' replacement as of this time in Magi history is a myomer prosthetic that is functionally almost identical to a real limb. An 'advanced' procedure would be using a nanomachine medical tank to rebuild a person's limb or other damaged body parts from the inside out, with a near 100 percent equivalent fix. The one option not available to the Task Force right now would be a wizard, who could use a regeneration or wish spell to (literally) magically rebuild the damage to a person's body.

**Knives91**: Given what was just revealed about the Angel Team in this chapter, the replacement for Angel One would have to a severe badass, and such would have to be up to the dice. There may be no person capable to the entry-level requirements at this time.

**Necroblade**: Oh yes, the Multimages still use magic, but there are no mages in the Task Force Jokers Wild. (Caveat: what Gerald Lightbringer happens to be is up for speculation at this time. I am deliberately not telling what he is, for good reason, despite all appearances in one direction or another.)

On the Haro scene, Athrun isn't quite sure yet that one of his Haros has been destroyed. Not that it shouldn't be obvious that Pink-Chan has been MIA this long, but he has no hard evidence to suggest foul play.

**Knightowl**: Eventually, comrade, I will teach you that hardware has its limitations. Severe limitations. II do like those designs, but not to the level of hype shown.

**Cool Beans (Anon)**: Much thanks for the compliment. I aim for 'cool beans' in all my works, of course :)

**Etienne Of The West Wind**: There will be more fallout, especially with unresolved situations on Terra. As to things to learn about his ships and crew, there are more still. Even the question as to whether or not the jump engine can be fixed is still up in the air.

* * *

The Gripe Sheet:

No sign of my Beta reader at this time. If any gripes are picked up, they will be listed here and corrected in prose.

**Frasermage** got one: In my initial release, I referred to Jess Rabble as a lady, when he reports that he is not. My bad.

* * *

Footnotes:

(1): **Pineapple** is the nickname given to hand grenades used by US soldiers prior to the induction of the baseball grenades used at this time. This type of grenade was also used by Magi infantry until just prior to the end of the Star Empire Wars for its simplicity of manufacture and excellent fragmentation radius.

(2): Magi forces do not use any form of traditional military salute, as this is considered bad form and 'a check for snipers the hard way'.

(3): **Seyla** is a Clan term still in use by the Magi, very reverential and roughly equivalent to shouting 'DAMN STRAIGHT, SIR!'

(4): **Baffles** is a submariner's term referring to the area directly behind a sub's propellers, where without the benefit of a towed sonar array, it is impossible to hear an enemy sub tracking you. In this usage, it is referring to directly behind the trio.

(5): **Transcended humanoids** is actually a bit of misinformation on Gerald's part. In reality, the beings the Magi had met prior were actual humans that had 'Transcended' (become so powerful magically) that they could be rightfully called the next step beyond humanity. These beings, known as the ancient Gods, would serve to cause trouble for the Magi for a long time, though many of the Gods did not care about the Magi or actively sided with them.

(6): To **entertain batchall** means to listen to a declaration of intent to challenge the Magi (or Clans) for purposes of Trial by Combat. Batchall is the process by which challenges are issued and the method of the Trial is ascertained, then bidding is performed to determine what forces will participate in the combat.

* * *

TRO Section:

There was once a machine that fought Freedom and Justice to a standstill, named after a flower...

**General and Technical Data**

**Model number:** RX-78GP02H-LBC1

**Code name:** Gundam "Physalis" Heavy Weapons Type (Lightbringer Custom)

**Unit type:** prototype general purpose tactical mobile suit

**Manufacturer:** Anaheim Electronics

**Operator:** Multimage Commando Caste, Multimage Task Force Jokers Wild, Mendel Armed Forces

**Rollout:** Unknown (Classified)

**First deployment:** Unknown (Classified; Negaverse rumor suggests first deployment year SL-112, or over 14000 years prior to formation of Task Force Jokers Wild. This rumor is completely unconfirmed and is disavowed by the Magi.)

**Accommodation:** pilot only, in standard cockpit in torso

**Dimensions:** overall height 19.5 meters; head height 18.5 meters

**Weight:** empty 66.5 metric tons; max gross 95.0 metric tons (not including shield or optional hand armaments)

**Armor materials:** Lamellor Ferro-Carbide, Mithiril and Gundanium Tri-weave composite armor

**Powerplant:** Toroidal Dual-Stage Fusion Reactor, power rated at 16,500 Kilowatts

**Propulsion:** rocket thrusters: 4 x 95000 kg, 6 x 7000 kg, Verniers / apogee motors: 24

**Performance:** maximum thruster acceleration 4.44 G; 180-degree turn time 0.4 seconds

**Equipment and Design Features**: External propellant tanks (max 6), ejectable; psychoframe system integrated into cockpit; Commando modifications (can carry up to 100 kilograms of material in several onboard internal storage compartments, interface systems and logic to use almost any Zeon, Earth Federal, Axis, Oz, White Fang, Vulture, UNE, or any Star Empire MS weapons).

**Fixed armaments:** 2 x 60mm Vulcan gun, fire-linked, mounted in head (400 rounds ammunition total); 2 x A. AEXB-5909S modified beam saber, stored in recharge racks in hip armor, hand-carried in use; 1 x heat saber, battery powered, stored in recharge rack on back, hand-carried in use.

**Optional Fixed Armaments**: total of five hardpoints on the back, back waist, and hips to carry up to five hand-held weapons or other gear as needed by the mission.

**Optional hand armaments:** 880mm RB-T27 Raketen bazooka, clip-fed, 5 rounds per clip, spare clips can be stored on waist armor storage racks; Optional armed shield (see entries below); theoretically can use any Mobile Suit hand armaments ever constructed, up to and including weapons that require special unlocking codes from the carrying MS.

**Optional armaments (Nuclear Shield)**: AE/ZIM.G-BAZ-0186-A atomic bazooka (uses AG-R05-500X Long-Range Antimatter warhead, 1 round in chamber, breech and firing chamber), mounted on right shoulder, barrel/trigger mechanism stored in shield when not in use, NR-Sh-02-RX/S-00013 shield, stores barrel/trigger mechanism for atomic bazooka.

**Optional Armaments (Ground Attack Shield)**: 10 x micromissile VLS silos, mounted in top edge surface of shield, six missiles per silo; 2 x 'Sniper' artillery Cannons, mounted on inside surface of shield facing downward, fire-linked or can be fired independently, 30 rounds of artillery ammunition or 50 rounds close-combat ammunition per cannon.

**Optional Armaments (Space Attack Shield)**: 16 x Funnels (mounts beam gun, power rated at 25.47 MW), mounted in outer edge surfaces of shield, optional storage for hand weapons, magazines, and battery packs on inside surface of shield.

**Technical And Historical Notes**

The Physalis rapidly became the Magi's symbol of industrial and militaristic might in the face of the growing war effort against the Negaverse during the Star Empire Wars, even more so than the Warships and Battlemechs that did most of the fighting. However, the Physalis was not without its dangerous limitations, and the Magi command elements realized that this machine, though supreme in its purpose as a nuclear delivery platform, was lacking in almost every other capability. As such, a new set of capabilities was drawn up and submitted to the manufacturer, Anaheim Electronics, to prototype and demonstrate capability or to disavow as impossible. Within a year of initial Request for Comment, the first Physalis Heavy Weapons was deployed and saw action against the Negaverse Grenadiers with stunning success.

Centuries later, with continual upgrades and improvements, the Physalis HW would become the choice weapons platform of another soldier in the war effort, Gerald Lightbringer, who used his machine for everything it was worth and far more. Even still, he found the outer edge of the much-improved heavy weapons platform against such Negaverse machines as the Sazabi and Illyaris machines such as the Quin Mantha. With these limits coming to cost him destroyed machines, deceased comrades, and in two cases severe time in the hospital, Gerald requested a machine that pushes the limits of power and defensive capability while giving him the speed and striking power to eliminate anyone that needed to be destroyed. Thus, the Physalis Heavy Weapons / Lightbringer Custom was born in total secrecy, funded entirely by the pilot and engineered out of scraps from other Physalis production lines.

Despite the nature of its birth, the Physalis HW LBC is not a piecemeal machine, nor is it lacking in any fashion compared to contemporary machines. Where the Heavy Weapons (standard) natively has 2.25 Gs of acceleration, the LBC variant has increased foot thrusters and super-powered shoulder thrusters with a total of 4.44 Gs acceleration, almost double that of the upgraded version and almost triple the acceleration of the stock Physalis. In defensive terms, the LBC variant was the first Physalis to use a woven armor composite over the whole machine, at the time a combination of Ferro-Carbide and Gundanium, though this was revised much later to use a Tri-Weave composite of Lamellor Ferro-Carbide for energy resistance, Gundanium for ballistic and energy protection, and Mithiril to defeat shape charge penetrators. This combination armor, when applied in sufficient quantity, gives the Physalis near immunity to weaker ballistic, missile or beam weapons, and plenty of protection from heavier Gundam, Battlemech, and even some smaller Warship weapons. This combination of speed and staying power immediately gave Gerald the ability to go toe-to-toe with the best of any Star Empire's elite machines and survive the battle mostly intact or unharmed.

The combat power of the machine has been topnotch from the word 'go' and has not let down since inception. Initially fielded with a Gundam-class beam rifle, Gerald modified the hands of his machine to accept any class of mobile suit weapon usable, giving him the flexibility to carry local weapons and not reveal the presence of a Magi machine in the area. Additionally, with necessary engine upgrades over the years, the LBC has gained the ability to carry ever-increasingly powerful energy weapons, culminating in the much-feared dual buster rifle of the Wing Zero Gundams. This variability, combined with the integral hardpoints for carrying a wide array of weapons has given Gerald the power to engage targets at any range with overwhelming firepower, until such a time as he can close up with the enemies and finish them off with the heavy beam sabers.

Much like the Neue Ziel piloted by the same pilot, the Negaverse 'knows' that Gerald has sortied with the Physalis HW LBC many times over a great span of centuries, but much to their chagrin cannot prove his presence on any one battlefield. No Negaverse pilot has ever rightfully claimed to have survived the wrath of the 'Archangel of Death', and for good reason. Similarly, almost all of Gerald's combat codex is classified to the Division Commander of the Techstrikers and Division Commander of Commandos, meaning that no entity short of the Emperor and two of his immediate subordinates has the right to read his records. Therefore, any reports of the action of this pilot and/or any machines he may have piloted, or has been purported to pilot, is considered conjecture and cannot be confirmed. Every Division Commander asked about his records have invariably replied with some variant of 'go screw yourself'. The Emperor never answers questions on the records of his subordinates, therefore nobody has asked him about it. For all intents and purposes, this machine is 'known' to exist but has never been known to see combat.


	13. Sharpening Knives, Planning Ahead

(Jokers Wild, Set 1, Chapter 13: Sharpening Knives, Planning Ahead)

(3 October CE 71, 2000 hours)

(Warship _Mjolnr_)

The two Marines stopped, this time, in front of Natarle's cell. She had watched the remaining prisoners in her cell block leave one group of four at a time, but the number roulette left her the last. "My turn?"

"Aff," a voice replies, but not one of the two Marines in front of her.

"Ah, the Star Admiral that humbled the great nations of this world," Natarle says with only a hint of sarcasm.

"Such a feat would not have been outside your tactical acumen, Commander Badgiruel, had you the resources of my Task Force." The Star Admiral personally unlocked the cell and pulled the gate open.

"Why the honors? This is a simple prisoner transfer, isn't it?"

"From an administrative standpoint, yes, it is. All things considered, my Strategic Officer is convinced that you may be the best Earth Alliance non-flag officer (1) out there. I agree; given how you tried movement and fire in the shallows of L4, and your retreat plan, you had the right ideas but the wrong team to execute them." They had exited the cell block and were taking secondary corridors toward the transport ship.

Natarle figured that was the closest she was going to get to outright accolades from the Magi, though she would have to review the battle plan for Jachin Due and see what this Star Admiral was worth. Admiral Sutherland was absolutely terrified of the guy, which said plenty in and of itself. "And my ship?"

"Isorla," Star Admiral Centara replies, meaning that it was now considered the rightful property of the Magi. "The _Dominion_ was not involved in much gun action, though it was pivotal in preventing the ZAFT superweapon from firing a second time. The Lohengrin cannons are rather effective against stationary objects."

"Then it helped Earth, in the end," Natarle says reverentially. The two officers and two Marines stopped outside one of the dock collars, to which the status board showed '_Marseilles III_-class transport monitor, prisoner ferry to Earth Alliance Fleet' in bold but plain lettering.

"I think it should be noted that, despite what you will hear, I am not out to annihilate the Earth Alliance. I have two wars at the minimum waiting for me at home, I do not need to add a heaping helping of trouble to that list by starting more wars here. I just want to get this rust-bucket rebuilt and home. Kindly pass that along to your command structure, will you?"

"I will relay that message, Star Admiral," the diminutive Commander replies.

"May we never have to cross blades again, Commander Badgiruel," Wayne says, coming to attention in the traditional Magi approximation of a salute. _Next time, the battle may be a lot more costly than what I paid this time around_, he thinks sardonically.

"Indeed," and she comes to attention, but does not salute. Without another word, she moved down the corridor and to the lock set leading to the transport ship.

"Was letting that one go a wise idea?" the Marine Star Captain escorting the Star Admiral asks.

"Strictly speaking, no," Wayne replies. "Between her acumen and Sutherland's basic knowledge of how we operate, they may be able to find enough gap in our capabilities to pose a threat. Still and all, honor dictates that she walks." The honor lay in the cease-fire treaty, and despite personal reservations, Wayne would follow the honorable path and follow the treaty to the letter. "One to go," Wayne says.

"I still say we could, erm, 'have an accident' with this one and not one of the crew would care a whit," the other Marine says.

"Not in the cards, sorry," Wayne replies. "Come on."

"Aff," the Star Captain grumps. The cell block in question was only a two minute walk away, a cell block which had only a handful of prisoners though only one of them from an Earth Alliance skirmish.

"Finally come to release me?" Murutha Azraiel asks almost snidely as first two Marines appear at his cell, then the Star Admiral.

"In a manner of speaking," Wayne replies just as snidely.

"Excellent! Finally! I was getting tired of this cell!"

"Do not grow unaccustomed to the view, I doubt ZAFT has different accommodations in mind for you," the Star Captain says.

"What?" Azraiel had gone from somewhat elated to instantly soured in less than a second.

"Your power and so-called prestige has not won you a get-out-of-brig-free pass," the other Marine says before entering the unlock code in his cell. "On your feet, dezgra-dog, and face the rear of the cell."

"What is this?" Azraiel asks as the obligatory meter-long control rods were attached to his heavy shackle belt. The rods would be used by the Marines to maintain positive control over the prisoner as he was moved.

"And what result did you honestly expect for authorizing a nuclear attack on a civilian colony, scumdog? We would simply let you walk?" Wayne asks.

"Walk backwards towards my voice, now, now, now, now, now, stop," the Star Captain orders before Azraiel could reply.

Wayne does a standard pat-down on the prisoner, and as expected finds nothing on his person. "Prisoner confirmed clear. Prepare to transfer."

"Transfer prisoner, aff, Star Admiral. Prisoner rotate left ninety," and the Marines shift around with him. "March, maggot."

"This isn't fair!" Azraiel pouts.

"If Existence itself was fair, I would be ass-deep in two wars at home right now, not cleaning up your shit-pile fracas here and now," Wayne says.

"Hey pretty boy, enjoy your stay here in Hotel Hell?" one of the other prisoners jeers Azraiel as he is marched down the cell block toward the hall.

"Finally, the dezgra dog gets his just deserts," a Marine doing brig time says.

"Such a pity we can't have any fun with him."

"Glad this asshat is going, him occupying that cell down there was driving down real estate values in this brig block."

"We spanked his ass once, but he really belongs to ZAFT. A debt I would not begrudge them," a Quartermaster says from her holding cell.

Outside the cell block, he was rotated to head aft. "Blue Cosmos will get you for this! We avenge our own!" Azraiel says almost frantically, seeing the green and red ZAFT uniforms in the distance.

"Been there, done that, cleaned up the body parts afterward," Wayne replies sharply. "In fact, I'm already planning a very special welcome for Blue Cosmos when they come to Mendel, as they inevitably will. For us, this is nothing new."

Azraiel simply whimpers, knowing there was no way out of this jam. Silently he dreaded every step, yet with ten tons of combat metal pushing him forward, there was no stopping. He was silent for the rest of the several hundred meter march.

"Attention!" the ZAFT Redcoat orders, as the four rifle-armed guards come to attention.

"Star Admiral Centara transferring prisoner Mike-Hotel-Whiskey-0-0-6-4-2-8-dash-1-1-9-4-2-6-8-4-7 into ZAFT custody."

"ZAFT acknowledges the transfer," the Redcoat replies. "Two, take possession of the criminal."

"Sir!" two of the soldiers sling their rifles, move forward, and take the control rods from the Marines.

"Thank you, sir," the Red says.

"No thanks is needed," Wayne replies. "You were the ones that suffered by his hands, it is your price to reap from his hide, not ours."

"Damn you, Centara! I hope you rot in hell!"

"You will get there first, Azraiel. Save me a seat, quiaff?" Whatever reply he had was silenced by the distance he traversed into the ZAFT transport.

"A question, sir, if I may?" the blond-haired Redcoat asks.

"Please," Wayne replies immediately.

"During the battle, you were piloting a machine with a scorpion's tail beam cannon, a beam machine gun, and working with one of the Earth Alliance newer-model machines, correct?"

"Aff, I was," Wayne replies. "Oh, yours was that customized GuAIZ, if I remember your voice correctly, the one armed with piecemeal weapons from Freedom and Justice, correct?"

"Correct, sir," he replies. "What did you mean by your parting aphorism, sir?"

"An incorrect assumption on my part, pilot," Wayne replies. "My initial guess was that you were promoted to your position by way of political wrangling. Given the outcome of our encounter, it is apparent to me I was incorrect on that assessment. For that, I offer surkai." (2)

"Huh?" Heine asks in response.

"An apology, in the parlance of my society," Wayne replies.

"Ah, thank you, sir, apology accepted," he replies. _They really do believe in being proper, even to the point of apologizing for something I would not normally consider an insult_, he thinks. _These guys are weird shit, but scary nonetheless_, he concludes as his glance crosses the Marine again. "Is there any paperwork I need to sign off on?"

"Aff, just this," and Wayne presents a computerized note tablet. "Acknowledgment that the prisoner was turned over alive and unharmed to your forces."

Heine took a few moments to read it over and signed on the indicated line. "Done, sir," he replies.

"Good luck, pilot," Wayne replies as he comes to attention. The ZAFT Redcoat comes to attention sharply, salutes, and was on his way without another word.

"And so ends this chapter."

"Neg, Star Captain, it is only beginning." Wayne was silent for several moments. "Only beginning. Dismissed, and thank you for facilitating the transfers." The ZAFT shuttle would be escorted to ZAFT territory by a full trinary of Aerofighters, a force composition that had turned out so powerful that both ZAFT and the Earth Alliance were busy grossly _over_estimating their capabilities. Wayne knew that such cards were hard to play for value, but he could always find a way. After all, the Magi playbook was new and fresh reading in these parts, giving him new foes to try old tricks on. Such was good for a crooked smile as he moved in the general direction of his quarters.

Of course, Wayne had already directed his best minds to come up with new tricks as well...

-x-x-x-

(4 October CE 71, 0950 hours)

(ZAFT Aprilius One colony)

Patrick stopped to watch the news footage of the _Mjolnr_ taking off. The massive warship was heading on a slingshot course for L4, where it would take residence in the colonies there and 'clean up the old neighborhood' as the Star Admiral had said to the press. The Junk Guild was already looking forward to a 'long and very productive' relationship with the Magi, as a lot of salvage would be trading hands in short order. As Patrick watched, the scene displayed Rabble's view to the departing _Mjolnr_, with its four banks of massive interplanetary engines lighting off in a sequential pattern. Each engine on the massive ship produced far more power than an equivalent thermonuclear engine, and before the fourth engine had lit off the ship was perceptibly moving.

A few Mobile Armors were out and about, and also began moving in the direction of the ship on the footage, capable of both outpacing it in combat maneuver and holding pace with it in long-range travel, or so he had learned. The garnered kills by the Magi MA units had lent a new aphorism to the abbreviation 'MA' in ZAFT parlance: 'Mobile Annihilation'. Only one Mobile Armor had been struck down by ZAFT, a lucky kill by Commander Yzak Joule, and one had been struck down by the Earth Alliance. In contrast, the Magi MA had accounted for over fifty percent of the combat kills inflicted by their whole force, with MS and Gundams coming in second and the Aerofighters coming in third. All analysis capabilities were working overtime, trying to find ways to prevent the Magi from running roughshod over ZAFT military forces again, but as of the hour prior to Patrick being officially expatriated, there was not much hope on that subject.

"Ready to go?" Ezalia asks.

"Orb or bust," Patrick replies.

"Still thinking about it?"

"Yeah, I just don't know if I could serve the people that butchered our side."

"Their society is a never-ending war," Patrick immediately recognized the voice of Commander Yzak Joule. "On even terms, we would not have had much chance. Throw in their technological disparity, and it only gets worse."

"Is there any hope, son?" Ezalia asks.

"Yeah, wait them out," Yzak replies, though appeared almost soured to the thought. "They don't want any part of this, they have two wars to deal with in their homeland and that is where they want to be. We don't provoke them, we don't have to fight them. It is as simple as that."

"Interesting strategy," Patrick replies, not really considering something as basic as that a valid technique, especially with someone almost as barbaric as the Magi. "Can Canaver and her successor do that, however?"

"Canaver, yes, easily." Ezalia replies. "Her successor might be an issue, especially if it is who I think it will be."

"Who?" Patrick asks for clarification.

"Durandal." Patrick groans in disgust. "He's already trying to put together a coalition for influence and policy."

"Best I get out of here, then, before things really go to hell," Patrick comments before picking up his barrel bag and suitcase.

"You won't hear this from anyone else sir, but thank you for trying to stiff the Earth Alliance," Yzak says.

"Thanks, Commander," Patrick replies. "You'll have to do it again, but hopefully next time they can be finished off."

"And you, mother. If I ever get some leave, I'll try and visit you in Orb."

"I won't be there," Ezalia replies.

"Huh?"

"I've already decided to sign on with the Magi." She holds up a hand to silence her son's protest. "Orb is neutral and will stay that way, or at worst join themselves Earth Alliance. The Magi will never side with Blue Cosmos, which makes them the less loathsome of the two parties." After Yzak calmed down, she continued. "If I can get some influence, I will try keeping them from taking a hostile position against ZAFT, but I can't make any guarantees. I don't know enough to know if I can even do that."

"We have to learn," Yzak says. "We have to learn what we can do, and what we can't do to them."

"Sir, your shuttle is preparing to depart," a ZAFT guard assigned to them replies.

Patrick moves out, leaving Ezalia and her son alone. "I'll do what I can, but no guarantees."

"Seriously, thanks, mother. I'll see what I can do to get some leave here in a few months." It was obvious that it would take that long, since ZAFT had to be rebuilt and that would require senior, veteran forces to train the incoming recruits...especially in how to survive a Magi onslaught.

Ezalia gave her son a hug, then picked up her travel case and was on the way. She listened to the safety briefing from the shuttle crew, as was required, then simply went to sleep. It would be a long flight, though rumor was the flight from Orb to L4 would be far shorter.

-x-x-x-

(6 October CE 71, 1530 hours)

(Mendel Colony)

"Last shuttle of Earth Alliance prisoners is on the way out," Flight Control declares.

"Command, _Mjolnr_, settling into parking position at this time. Five minutes to neutral inertia."

"_Mjolnr_, Command, Star Admiral Centara speaking. Please pass on my congratulations to Willy for driving our beeter through Hell the long way without so much as a flat tire." Wayne's Gundam was one of a dozen waiting to get into the airlock to enter the inside of Mendel, meaning he was not onboard the ship to pass those congratulations on directly.

"_Mjolnr_ acknowledges, Star Admiral. Willy says he owes you a drink, wants to know when you shall collect, sir."

"Later this evening, if nothing goes to hell," Wayne answers. "Star Admiral is out."

"Mobile Suits in dock pattern alpha, Dock Command reporting that airlock is open. I have room for a star, bring it on."

"C'mon, boss-man, move it up!" a Zephyranthes Gundam waves him toward the lock, where there was room waiting for him. Wayne moved his Gundam forward to the lock, though it took a Heavyarms to position him completely inside so the doors could close.

"How's our prospects look, boss-man?" a Star Captain and pilot of a Nu Gundam asks.

"So far so good," Wayne replies. "We have Mendel right now, and there are six colonies in the area within a month of being active and ready if we have to expand that much."

"We will," the Heavyarms pilot says. "People will come out here for four reasons. One, they will want to get away from 'insert local assholes here'. Two, they will see some kind of opportunity here that they would not get somewhere else, like a space-faring balls-to-the-wall crazy-mother-fucker society, just for example." There was a brief pause as several of the listeners chuckled at the thought. "Three, we shall undoubtedly get refugees from the war zones, displaced and not wanting to go back. Four, any really adventurous mo-fo on planet is going to be drawn to a society who knows how to build ships to jump to other planets, if for nothing but the thrill of going to said planets."

Wayne laughs good and hard over the analysis. "Well, I can think of a reason five and six, actually, though five is a subset of point one you made." Wayne says.

"Do tell, sir," a Mudrock pilot replies.

"Well, fifth point is that there are going to be people who will join us for the sole purpose of opposing either ZAFT or the EA. As much as I do not want to call upon partisan bickering, that may be a strength we need to exercise to survive in coming years. Six, once word gets out that Magi law has very minimal restrictions on eugenics and Coordinator research, and has only safety and environmental regulations for manufacturing and commercial business, we are going to become host to just about every otherwise clandestine biotech research firm and home of many industrial pursuits. Hell, I would not be surprised if Morgenroete opens a legit manufacturing branch in one of our colonies after the peace treaty allows it." A pause of a few moments, while the approaching reality of what Wayne had heard and said sinks in. "This is just exactly what I needed to hear. Add civvies into the equation, and this has mass propensity to go to hell by way of the express lane."

"I'll pay for the fuel to get us to the gates of Hell, you get to deal with Satan's doggies," the Mudrock pilot says. "Damn, how long does it take to open this lock?"

"It's the pressurization system that takes so long, it needs to be beefcaked, the doors opening and closing are fairly snappy," the Gelgoog pilot in the lock grumps.

"I can cure that," Wayne says. "Command, Centara, routing maintenance at Mendel, please."

"Aff, sir, one moment," which stretched into a seemingly-endless fifteen seconds. "Maintenance, I have Star Admiral Centara on the line."

"Go for Maintenance," a gruff voice says.

"I am in the planet-side freight airlock at this time, and it's taking bloody forever to pressurize."

"Aff, sir, I know that, I have an upgrade request on it at this time."

"What's the priority on it, son?" Wayne asks.

"Charlie-six, effectively sometime this week if I can get a few guys cut loose for it."

"Move it up to an Alpha-two priority, my orders. If we can get this lock working faster, material and manpower gets into the colony faster and shit gets done quicker. Objections?"

"Neg, sir, I'll get my nanoengineer on it within the hour. Anything else for Maintenance?"

"One thing. If you see things that can be improved to speed up deploy and occupancy, call into myself, Lightbringer, or Ward for authorization to upgrade and execute. Call through to _Mjolnr_ and get more techs in here if needed. I don't want to be caught jerking off at the jumpoff point should anyone come by for a visit, clear?"

"Aff, Star Admiral. My next call is Maint Control, then."

"Very well, Centara is clear on this channel." Wayne clicks off his radio channel.

"Look at that, the door is finally opening."

"Glory be!" the Mudrock pilot half-shouts. "Good thing we're not in a rush, or we'd already have missed our appointments."

The door appeared to slow down for a moment, but resumed opening. For another half-meter it worked properly, then screeched and stopped all linear travel. "You were saying?" The Heavyarms pilot asks, eyeing the two meters of open doorway with her Gundam.

"DAMN THIS DOOR!" Despite the shout from the Mudrock pilot, there were two shrugs, a grunt from the Star Admiral, and an unreaction from the other pilot in the lock.

"Well, since we're not going anywhere any time soon, might as well use this time to catch up on paperwork," Wayne grumps.

"Give me some space, I'll finish opening that door up."

"You cut that door open, it comes out of your paycheck, mister," Wayne says. "Wait for maintenance to handle it."

"GAH! IS ANY PIECE OF GODS-BE-DAMNED EQUIPMENT GOING TO WORK RIGHT FOR US?"

"Chill out and roast a fucking doob, man," the Nu Gundam pilot orders of the Mudrock. "Become one with your inner tranquility, do some of the Star Admiral's paperwork, just shut the fuck up. This is not an appropriate place to go apeshit, quiaff?"

Regardless of final choice, the Mudrock pilot simply grumbled and switched off his radio before he continued ranting and raving.

"Attention MS in planet-side airlock, this is dock control, I show a failure in the colony-side pressure doors. Maintenance has been dispatched and is working on the problem at this time. Please stand by."

"Like we have a choice," Wayne grumps while calling up his first dose of supply transfer manifests that he had to sign off on.

-x-x-x-

(9 October CE 71, 1400 hours)

(Orb General Assembly administration building, office of the Chairwoman)

It had taken the whole of thirty minutes for the legislature to confirm Cagalli as the new head of the Emirate, at least for the remainder of her father's term of five years (he still had three and a quarter years to go). After that, only would she run a chance of remaining in command if she could prove herself more effective than the others in the room. For damn sure, what she was about to front would not make her politically popular with the ninnies in the room.

Well, with the exception of the Orb military and the Sahaku family. 'Ninnies' in the room counted only two people, really, so long as they had not already swayed the neutral factions.

"Okay, allow me to make sure I have this straight. You are saying that right now, because we are in a position of weakness, we should ally ourselves with a power that has exploited our nation, correct?"

"In a manner of speaking," Yuna Seiran notes. "They had to do what they felt was right—"

"First off, Yuna, do not under any circumstance make excuses for Earth Alliance skullduggery and subsequent rape of this nation, clear?" Cagalli orders in a significantly dark tone.

"Clear," Yuna replies nonchalantly.

"Second, I want you to keep in mind that the Earth Alliance exacted some heavy concessions from everyone to have this nation repatriated to sovereignty. They did not want to give up Orb, and specifically they did not give up South America. They don't want alliances, they want control. I fought long and hard to wrest this nation from them, you will turn it back over to them only over my dead body, is that clear?"

"Cagalli, you don't have to—"

"If I do not, then why are you trying to cozy up to the government that overran our nation not even six months ago?" Cagalli asks.

Yuna had suffered enough of Cagalli's intransigence and snap-decided he would reassert his authority. "Then why are you trying to cozy up to barbarians?"

"Barbarians?" Cagalli chuckles at the thought. "A barbarian would not forge an alliance that lasts fourteen **thousand** years and is **still** in effect, a credit to which only the Magi can claim. The Earth Alliance is incapable of respecting sovereign territory for a mere span of two years, what makes you think they will respect our rights next month?"

"I have personal assurance that the Earth Alliance will respect our national sovereignty should we sign onto the Alliance treaty. We need strong allies at this time, not hopes."

"Such assurances are worth less than the cell-phone airtime you paid to hear them from the Earth Alliance representatives, Yuna," Rondo Mina Sahaku counters sharply. "As to strength, my agents inside the Earth Alliance say there is no way the Alliance naval forces could withstand even a moderate attack from the Magi at this time, much less an all-out offensive on their part. Lady Cagalli can speak for the strength of the Magi better than I can."

"Their strength is not in arms, nor in training," Cagalli says to the council, ignoring the random sounds and soured looks from the Seiran members. "The Magi consider their honor and their conduct their strength, and view the honor and conduct of others as strength. You want proof of that belief, go talk to ZAFT or the Earth Alliance, you will see how far 'strength' carried them on the battlefield against the Magi." There was no need for the Council to ask what the final tally was, ZAFT reported that over half of their military forces had been crushed by the Magi in less than two hours of concentrated fighting. The Earth Alliance had not publicly stated their losses, but Orb's intelligence service was throwing around such numbers as 35 percent, 40 percent, which lent credence to Cagalli's statement. "If you must have a concrete number, the Task Force Jokers Wild was at 75 percent mission capable as of the first of this month, and should be 90 percent mission capable as of this morning. What Rondo said was right, the Earth Alliance cannot hope to stand against the Magi right now, ZAFT cannot stand against the Magi, and for damn sure no neutral party has even a slim hope of it, and that last rank includes us as well. Let me reiterate something you may have missed, Yuna, they took a nuclear strike in the side of the _Mjolnr;_ it killed four or six crewmen on the ship and pissed their command crew off. If you have a way to counter that kind of capability, I want to hear about it right now."

Yuna opened his mouth to respond, said nothing for two seconds, snapped it shut. After a brief pause, he opened his mouth again, though it was only a second before he closed his mouth this time around.

"Seriously, Yuna, if you have a sure-fire way to take down the Magi, I want to hear about it," Cagalli says earnestly. "My duty is to protect this country and see it flourish. If the Earth Alliance is the way to go and it won't get us killed off or taken over, I want to know how. Otherwise, right now it looks like the Magi are the people to beat, or in our case the people to give overture to at this time."

"Cagalli, let's be realistic," Yuna counters. "How is being allied with the Earth Alliance going to get us killed off?"

"Simply stated, to Magi, your word is your honor and duty. If we say that we will ally and become part of the Earth Alliance they will consider that our honor-bound position, not an alliance of convenience as you think it would be. That also means that **when** the Alliance is stupid enough to start an outright war with the Magi, they will consider us part and parcel with said idiots and our forces will suffer the same fate or worse than ZAFT did—likely worse, if it ends up being a ground war." She smiles in an almost evil fashion. "And, for the sake of argument, let us say it ends up a ground war. Technologically, we are par with ZAFT, maybe a little ahead of the curve, but that is arguable. We also have some excellent strategists in our armed forces, more points in our favor. Our force density is also significantly higher per square kilometer than the average for the Earth Alliance or ZAFT."

"All points in our favor, I like the sound of that," Unago Seiran says.

"I gamed out such a scenario, just to see what would happen, with one of their most brilliant soldiers—Strategic Officer Calamira Weste, who coordinates the Magi forces while the Star Admiral oversees the operations and Commander Ward controls the _Mjolnr_. I thought I had a decent guard that would have ground the Magi to a standstill and forced the issue to the negotiating table. Colonel Kisaka thought **he** had a plan to stiff the Magi. We both lost. We both lost so hard and so fast it would not have counted as a freaking speed bump on their invasion plan. They have so many forms of fire support, air support, and naval support available that the Magi can annihilate our entire standing army and every man, woman, and child on the islands without putting a single soldier on the ground. To our credit," and Calamira indicated Colonel Kisaka and herself; "our battle plans may have made an interesting footnote on the unit's Remembrance, and may have even been subject of debate at the Strategic Combat Studies Institute that Calamira trained in at. Nothing else, not even notable losses for the Magi."

Even Rondo Mina Sahaku was aghast at such a description and the implied horrific carnage. "How...how can one fleet have that kind of power?"

"I have thought long and hard about it, and I only have one answer that makes more sense than any other. Their society is nothing but continual conflict, punctuated by brief periods of relative calmness and stability. They live for their honor and their beliefs, they constantly push themselves to be better, they don't waste time or effort on niceties or currying favor or playing little games of status and power. They buried their politicians in their second revolution—the military is their government, commanded by the will of the people. Their soldiers live and die knowing that the foes on the far side of their gunsights would readily rape their homeland if given the chance. They fight each battle as if it will be their last, with only the intent of completing their objectives and ensuring their foes do not survive to tell about it. And, at the risk of turning your stomachs, their eugenic program, the 'artificial humans' created en masse by their scientists, they are genetically refined and bred for the express purpose of becoming soldiers, most based on bloodheritages that trace their roots back to incredibly successful soldiers of wars past." There was significant grumbling from the entire assembled council on that note, though it did not last long. "You ask me why they have such power? I ask you: how quickly would you have caved and surrendered to your fate, when faced with a total war spanning thousands of dimensions, lasting three and a half millennia, necessitating forms of war that we can only imagine?" Again, there was some grumbling among the parties, though not long and it was silent again. "And now I ask you, what is standing between us and comparable feats in the future?"

"You can't expect us to follow such a barbaric mindset and path as this!" Unago half-shouts in response, though the furor of the response was only stilled by Rondo's laughing. "What is so funny?"

"You, Unago," Rondo Mina Sahaku replies tersely. "You are so up-in-arms about even the suggestion that Orb becomes great, a nation comparable to the Multimage Star Empire. As Lady Cagalli asked, why not? They have become great, but in their greatness they are not a lesson in greatness, nor a lesson in fear! They are a lesson in possibility!"

"Have you gone mad? We can't turn the government over to the military, the people won't stand for it!" In actuality, he meant his industrial and social patrons, not the people in reference to the whole of the civilians.

"You are focused on the wrong thing, old man," Sahaku replies sharply. "Milady, you said there are six major Star Empires. Can you allay his fears about governance?"

"The Magi are a military-executed direct democracy: the civilians tell the soldiers what to do, and Haumea help us all if Mendel tells the Task Force to erase Orb off the face of this planet. The Negaverse, the second-largest and politically the most influential, is a semi-feudalistic monarchy: each planet is governed by a Lord that answers to the residing Queen or King. The Illyaris are a dimension-aggregated representative republic, each dimension has their own command structure answering back to the top level. The Dark Moon Empire is also a semi-feudalistic, but at the top is an oligarchy centered on the patriarch, not a single ruler. The Dynasty is a direct feudalistic patriarchy-slash-magocracy-slash-theocracy—the Shamans in their society have a huge amount of swing, but still answer to the Lords of the realm. Finally, the New Moon Empire is a decentralized nature-based Theocracy—each planet has a hierarchy of Druids, though the Empire is loosely presided over by a Celestial Council and the council is loosely commanded by a single powerful sorceress. As is demonstrated, form of government is not a requirement to be a Star Empire, as you have everything short of an outright dictatorship in the upper six, and numerous dictatorships, communist societies, and similar in the second-tier and third-tier Empires, the small ones of a few planets here and there."

"And we have a straight oligarchy here on our hands, which would make an interesting addition to the list," Sahaku continues smoothly. "The Magi have shown us that even the most ass-backwards can grab a hold on the stars and keep grip for time immemorial—by the numbers, their empire should not even have survived as long as it did, yet it still stands and stands proudly defiant of everyone in Existence. The Magi will undoubtedly offer basic interstellar jump technology as a bargaining tool at the peace treaty. It will not take us too long to understand how they create interdimensional jump systems. Given our technical acumen and national pride, where we go, how fast we go and how far we go is simply a matter of how far this council is willing to push it. Quite literally, the only thing standing between us and a level of greatness the history books can't even encompass is which among you lose sleep over thinking about whose ass to kiss."

"Interdimensional Emirate of Orb," Lady Odessa Felde Relida comments, the first thing she had said beyond her customary greeting to Cagalli. Normally silent and neutral, she preferred the path of least resistance and simply observed unobtrusively the machinations of the other parties. "I cannot help but like the ring to that, much less the prestige of not only being more than just an island, but a truly independent entity beyond the scope of just one world. It will take time, though, Orb is a small nation. How long did it take the Magi to become massive?"

"Hundreds of years, to get started among the stars," Cagalli says. "After they became enmeshed on two planets, the rate of expansion increased significantly, from one planet in fifty years, to one on twenty, to one in five, to one in two years, then when next they checked they were expanding by several planets a year, then dozens per year, hundreds, it goes on. It is the only recorded known pyramid scheme in Existence that actually worked."

"And if we don't do it?" Unago asks calmly.

"If we do not do this, ZAFT or the Earth Alliance will, and they will find an opportunity to flatten Orb. Once that happens, when our small nation has to fight the resources of several planets, it is all over save for the screaming."

"The Magi?" Lady Odessa asks, thinking ahead to the possible contest of expansion.

"The Magi both are and are not already one. They are a Star Empire, but all they can claim in our presence is one fleet. They know how to do it, and more to the point they probably know all the really good planets to take and hold in a dimension. The flip side is they are starting off smaller than we will, despite their head-start on the process side. They cannot expand outward for now, their size is their limiting factor. They will show us how to do it, but they cannot join the club yet."

"I have little doubt they will join us as equals or better when they do finally get big enough to begin," Rondo Mina comments pensively.

"Independence, freedom, and most of all, neutrality that cannot be violated without serious threat to those who would challenge us." From the other half of the 'neutral faction', Ezekiel Cenvanas, it was a shock to the Seiran that he would speak out at all on the subject. Ezekiel was considered the other 'possible' for an arranged marriage to Cagalli, and had actively tried to court her in the early days of the war, but had notably backed off recently. Yuna thought it was his time to step forward and take Cagalli's hand; Ezekiel figured the blue-haired Gundam Pilot might have something to say about such a try. "If I do not miss my analysis, the strength of the Magi is widely decentralized, spread out over their multitude of planets, making it impossible for a single stroke to cripple their Empire. The Earth Alliance won against us because of our force density and centralization to the Onogoro island."

"What about a decapitation strike?" Yuna asks warily. "Didn't the Magi almost lose their commander several times?"

"And I feel sorry for the poor sods that tried, there was no 'almost' in such strikes, every direct attack on the Emperor was a gross failure," Cagalli says. "The higher you go in the Magi ranks, the better their soldiers are in their chosen form of combat. The Magi promotion system is geared specifically to ensure competence, despite the political flunkies of the Admiralty Board. By extension, the Emperor then and the Empress now are beings you do not hack off whatsoever, or it will not end well for the offending party. Even still, a clear delineation of succession can prevent the Empire being crippled. For the Magi, should the Empress be felled, the Division Commander of the Magi becomes the new Emperor or Empress for the duration of the ensuing war, though after the fighting they would hold a vote to determine succession. For us, we would have to work out a method to determine a pattern of succession, maybe a Lieutenant Representative?"

"We have cleared well off the path for our initial topic," Mina Sahaku says. "I move that we request representation from and to the Magi, and at such a time as possible, we ally with the Magi at one or more levels necessary to advance Orb's position."

"I second," Cagalli says.

"I move that we ally with the Earth Alliance, that we can rely on their strength and solidarity to advance Orb's position in the near future," Unago says calmly.

Fifteen seconds elapse. "No seconds?" Still the assembly was silent. "The movement from the Seiran is dismissed. Please cast your vote." The results only took five seconds to aggregate, as each house (family) had their own computer to vote. "With three votes of yes, one abstain, and one vote of no, the measure is passed."

-x-x-x-

(11 October CE 71, 2030 hours)

(Passenger shuttle _Retriever_)

Ashe couldn't bear to be so calm about the trip. It was almost freaking her out that her mother was simply sitting there, being serene about it, when there was so much that could go wrong with it.

Not that she wanted to stay anywhere any longer, the reach of Blue Cosmos had almost got her twice, and she wasn't even a Coordinator. Apparently the thought of a 'blue and pure world' did not include certain Naturals that had unusual characteristics, like Ashe's ability to read minds. The first time she had almost seen death was incidental, she had been a bystander to a BC hit against a shop owned by a Coordinator old lady. The second time, after they had moved twice, had been directed at her on suspicion of being a Coordinator, because of her ability to read minds she could tap into anyone's thought and borrow their brainpower for her own purposes. That was all the lesson she needed in circumspection, and all the motivation her mother needed to move off Earth and to Copernicus.

Even in Copernicus, a completely neutral city, the reach of Blue Cosmos was present. Two of her neighbor's houses had been firebombed, in one case when the neighbor was in. It still hurt, even a month later, hearing the pain and agony as someone burned to death in their own home, and hearing the sadistic laughing of a BC terrorist as he watched the house burn. Ashe had taken some good evidence to the authorities in Copernicus, but they had turned a blind eye to the incident. They did not want to challenge BC due to the propensity for major violence and casualties.

Then, the strike of the Jokers Wild against both ZAFT and the Earth Alliance gave her hope that there was a third option, somewhere where Blue Cosmos could not operate. As more and more evidence came to light that the Magi were something totally different from anything ever seen, Ashe and her mother had begun making plans for a dash to Magi territory, until it was found out that there was no Magi territory that anyone could get to. Hope died aborning, yet it was resurrected later that same day when it was announced that the Magi would take over the L4 colony area and clean up the massive amounts of space debris. For Ashe, finding a shuttle headed that way was dead simple, she needed only stand in a park nearby the space port and read the minds of the flight crews. More than a few shuttles were headed that way.

One shuttle of three that wanted to head out to the L4 colony area had made it. The other two had been infiltrated by Blue Cosmos and the occupants killed. It was a warning, their propaganda radio stations had said, that anyone supporting the Magi would pay dearly. The _Retriever_ had escaped just barely, though there were two dead in storage bags in the back, people that had paid the price for the rest of the shuttle to escape. Now, three days into the flight, they were approaching L4's Space Defense Identification Zone, and it would not be long before the Magi would come out to greet them. Ashe could only hope they were as honorable as they were powerful or fearful, yet something about them seemed to be...

-x-

(Same day, 2045 hours)

(Mendel SDIZ outer perimeter)

(Diamond Element, Point 6 (Dendrobium Mobile Armor))

"Sound, fury, fury, sound, whole helluva lot of nothing out here. Feels kinda creepy, I always thought Terra had congested near-space."

"Aff, Terra usually does, not around here though. War tends to turn civilian craft into shrapnel and salvage, amigo," Diamond Five replies.

"And as deplorable as it sounds, we get to clean up all that shrapnel and salvage," Diamond Seven adds.

"Could be worse, at least space tends to freeze-dry the bodies. Down planetside, no such luxury."

"Lot of burials in space," Diamond Six points out fairly.

"Though much potential for profit in the craft themselves, new techniques and models. Speaking thereof..."

"Aff, I see it as well, Diamond Seven." Diamond Six trips the flight control channel. "Command, Diamond Six reporting I have hard contact, one small craft, estimate mass 1-0-0 tons. Craft is maneuvering, appears manned at this time. Requesting orders."

"Diamond Six, command, close with contact from starboard side and investigate. Do not fire unless fired upon. Acknowledge orders."

"Diamond Six reporting close from starboard and investigate, weapons safe unless fired upon. Diamond Six moving now."

It took three minutes for Diamond Six to get into a decent position on the target's port-side (Diamond Element's starboard flank) and a further two minutes to close up on its side. On boresight magnification, however, he could tell that the craft was itself harmless unless the pilot was a not-so-smart-bomb kind of guy. "How is it, Six?"

"Passenger shuttle, Command, I have eyes on and I don't see anything threatening on this craft. Bank of ten windows, looks like a two-man cockpit, probably a third as cabin crew for the passengers. Estimate capacity at thirty passengers, maybe?"

"Roger that, give them a wake-up call, Six."

"Time to wake 'em and shake 'em, see what kind of reaction we get." Diamond Six activates his spread-spectrum radio transmission systems, and sets it to transmit on all frequencies. "Attention unidentified shuttle approaching Mendel SDIZ, cease your forward thrust, identify craft, personnel and cargo, and announce intention immediately, over."

While waiting for a response, Diamond Six changes the magnification settings on his cameras to 500X, giving him the ability to see in the port-side windows. He was a bit surprised that there were a lot of faces looking right at him...

-x-

"Ashe, what are you doing?" her mother asks sharply. "Get back from that window, you're crowding the nice lady there!"

"Mom, something's coming, it's big and white," Ashe says. "I think it's one of the Magi Mobile Armor units."

"What?" One of the guys in the shuttle asks. "She's right! That is one of their Dendrobium units!"

"Big sucker!" A ten-year-old says, now at the window in front of Ashe.

"Five hundred tons of space combat metal, including a sixty-ton Gundam at the heart of the machine," an older teen says. "What I wouldn't give to pilot a machine like that," she says.

"You'd want to join their army?" her boyfriend asks, almost disgusted of tone. "I hear they're crazy."

"They'd have to be to park their ship in front of a bloody nuclear missile," Ashe says. "Means they defend civilians, instead of stomping on them. Makes them all the more worth it."

The sounds of the engines cut out, then the passengers begin shifting forward. "Are we stopping?" An older guy asks.

"They've ordered us to stop and identify before we approach the colony cluster," the passenger loadmaster says. "You're right about that craft, that is a Dendrobium. Rapid-response interceptor Mobile Armor. No way we could make a run for it without being run over by that thing."

"Isn't it a bit strange that they let go of all that information?" A cynical lady asks. "Shouldn't they keep those kinds of things secret?"

"No, it makes perfect sense," Ashe replies, never taking her eyes off the Mobile Armor that was still closing on them. "They want the rest of the world to know how useless attacking them will be."

"Message received loud and clear, as far as I'm concerned," the loadmaster says reverentially. As the Mobile Armor approached to really close distance (close enough that Ashe could see the connection nozzles for a fuel fill-up), the Mobile Armor twists around to face away from the shuttle, then fires its massive engines for just long enough to come to a dead stop. After a few moments, the craft rotated around to look at the shuttle again. "Sweet Jesus, look at that mega particle cannon it has."

"Man, if he fired that thing at this dinky shuttle, there wouldn't be enough left of us to bury," the ten-year-old in front of Ashe says.

"What's with those two extensions above the Mobile Suit? What are those?" The teen was referring to two large blocs above and left or above and right of the MS, slab-sided panes liberally coated with illustrations of something...strange. They looked like pinups, but Ashe thought they might be something different, despite being rather revealingly-dressed ladies.

"Those are the modular weapons containers. Each container can carry ten pods, each pod can carry some serious ass-whoopin'. They can also carry weapons for the Gundam in there, or so I heard." From the teenage girl that wanted to join their army, Ashe believed every word of it. "Each pilot carries his or her own preference of pods. Some pilots are generalists, some train harder to take out hundreds of Mobile Suits in a battle, some train to specialize in sinking ships."

"Attention all passengers, this is the Captain speaking. As you are undoubtedly aware, we have a Mendel Mobile Armor off our port side, right now that pilot is securing permission for us to enter Mendel airspace. I am now patching the radio though onto the intercom, please stand by for their decision."

The sound of static, the carrier frequency, bled through the speakers as the whole passenger compartment held their breath. For forty seconds, there was silence in the cabin, as everyone stared at the speakers on the ceiling or out the window at the Mobile Armor.

"Attention passenger shuttle _Retriever_, this is Diamond Six, I have been informed by the Star Admiral that your request for safe haven has been granted at this time. Your flight instructions are as follows: forward at 1 grav for five minutes, set course for Mendel Alleyway VOR. You will receive revised course and routing instructions upon arrival at the VOR (4). I will escort to harbor. Welcome to the Mendel colony." There was a brief pause. "Diamond Seven, Diamond Six, come back."

"Go for Seven," an older lady says.

"I have escort on the civvie shuttle. Can you cover my zone for five until relief arrives?" The pilot of Diamond Six asks.

"Aff, I can handle it. I don't think anyone is going to start shit in the next ten minutes."

"Diamond Six, this is _Hyperion_, I will cover your patrol zone until you are through with escort."

"DUDE!" A middle-aged guy half-shouts. "There's a freaking warship over here! A big one!"

"_Hyperion_, Diamond Six, I owe you a beer for this one, Star Commodore. _Retriever_ from Diamond Six, begin your burn at this time."

"All right, everyone, sit down and strap in, we're going hot on the engines!"

Ashe moved back to her seat and strapped in, and true to the mid-age guy's word, there was indeed a Warship to the starboard of the shuttle. She remembered it from the news reports, it was the Warship that had intercepted one of the two missiles aimed at the PLANTs, the other missile hit the side of the _Mjolnr_ and detonated but did not destroy the ship. The ship with the most guns in the Earth Alliance arsenal was a _Nelson_-class, and from what she knew of those ships, the _Hyperion_ had more guns in just its nose than the entire _Nelson_ had spread completely around it.

_They truly are something different, aren't they_? Her mother asks telepathically.

_This may be the home for us, if half of the rumors I heard are true_, Ashe replies in kind. _It would mean learning their language, and how to fit into yet another society, but I would prefer it over the chance of being shot, burned, or blown up_.

-x-

(same day, 2200 hours)

(Mendel 'Alleyway' VOR navigation beacon)

"Command, Diamond Six escorting one shuttle of refugees, requesting priority clearance to the the harbor."

"Diamond Six, Command, you are cleared in the alleyway, Echo corridor. Be advised the _Redland_ is on the way out in Charlie and Delta corridors at this time, and there are salvage teams operating in the lowest ten percent of Echo. Try and stay out of everyone's way, please."

"Jawhol, frau Commandant," Diamond Six replies in a smartass tone.

"I am so going to rip you a new asshole one of these days," the Controller replies.

"Not today, milady, not today. _Retriever_, this is Diamond Six. I have uploaded you a set of nav points for Echo Corridor. We have to keep to the track, regardless of what we come across. The inside corridors, Charlie and Delta, right now there is 400,000 tons of _Sendai_-class warship trudging through on the way out. Believe me on this if nothing else, you don't want to come face to face with that kind of heavy metal, or you'll get a quick and painful lesson in the art of 'metal headbanging', clear?"

The Captain of the _Retriever_ laughs outright at the comment. "_Retriever_ copies your last, lead the way good sir."

Diamond Six locked in the first nav point and applied the barest fraction of thrust to move forward. _Redland_ was showing on his IFF and sensors, but was not close enough yet to be seen visually, being around a bend in the debris alley. Slowly but surely, though, the debris was disappearing into a certain set of cargo bays on the _Mjolnr_, and coming out as usable raw material ingots on the other side of the ship. It was that kind of unreality that made Diamond Six proud to be part of the Jokers Wild, for damn sure the Admiralty would not have allowed the _Mjolnr_ to use its nanomachine collective as a material reprocessor for profit.

The first nav point was five minutes of travel in, and at that time Diamond Six rotated to orient on the second of four points and change direction of movement. A few quick thrusts of his apogee motors and the Dendrobium was on course and on speed.

"Whoa, man, that is some seriously heavy metal, I don't think I've ever been this close to any Warship," the Captain of the _Retriever_ says. "_Redland_, I wonder where that name came from."

"Dunno," Diamond Six replies. "_Redland_, Diamond six, did you copy _Retriever_'s last?"

"_Redland_ confirms last, wait one."

A second voice came over the radio: "_Retriever_, this is _Redland_, Star Commodore Jin Kojima speaking. The _Redland_'s name is a mashup of Red Lands, an olden days term for Communist states such as Soviet Russia, China, Vietnam, and Cuba. Red Lands refers to the color they usually associated themselves with, a red flag in most cases."

"Interesting," the Captain of the shuttle comments before an old Gelgoog jumps across the corridor to begin collecting more salvage. "What are you guys doing with the stuff you collect? The Junk Guild has already picked over this stuff a dozen times, maybe more."

"It is pre-manufactured material, regardless of its street value to others. The Junk Guild may not be able to get anything out of it unless it is in working condition, but we take the scraps and dregs for what they are worth and break them down, recycling them into five-ton drop-forge-equivalent ingots of material to be used elsewhere. And five tons of pure Aluminum has an immense street value, just as one example." Diamond Six had already looked into the numbers, as he had considered joining the salvage efforts. Quotas had already been established and bonuses were being offered to crews that could safely exceed 'nominal recycling standards'.

"Jesus, what can you get for five tons of Aluminum?"

"Fifty thousand earth-dollars for a five-ton ingot, or thereabouts depending on the present metals exchange rate. ZAFT tends to pay higher, but they are willing to buy less, or so I hear from the Quartermasters."

"Oh...my...God, and some of those chunks your MS are moving are easily thirty, forty tons of material."

"You got it, Charlie," Diamond Six says. "After my shift on the guard front is over, I'll be joining them in bringing salvage in. Housecleaning and all that," _and I can beat the standing quota without any major risks to my unit or the other teams_, Diamond Six thinks with an internal chuckle.

The two craft made the transition into leg three of the transit without issue, though much as Diamond Six had been noticed there were significant salvage crews operating in the area, leaving not much in the way of maneuvering room for the two craft. It was start and stop movement for the whole track, though the edge of Mendel itself was in sight by the time they were approaching the fourth waypoint.

-x-

Ashe moved through the airlock immediately behind her mother, carrying with her only two suitcases, as she knew she had to travel light to avoid Blue Cosmos scrutiny. In their eyes, two suitcases meant a vacation and not a permanent defection. She had made sure to bring with her a few changes of clothing, but also those few things most precious to her.

"We made it! We really made it!" Ashe's mother says. Just barely did Ashe catch a hint of a tear floating in the zero-gravity catwalk, loosed by her mother. "Finally, somewhere...somewhere we won't be chased by—eek!" She was startled by coming out of the causeway and slamming into the outside surface of a Marine's shield. It took Ashe several seconds to stabilize her and chase down the errant suitcase.

"Huh?" To Ashe, the voice of the Marine was younger than herself, which didn't quite make sense to her. Much as she had seen on the news, though, the armor and specifically the massive shield lived up to what she expected: massive and foreboding, though not entirely as scary as the reporters (the not-so-neutral ones) had made them out to seem. "Oh, you must be the refugees, I take it?"

"Yeah, sorry about that," Ashe replies.

"Neg, no apology needed. My fault, I should have seen you coming." The Marine looks to the side, where a group of uniformed but unarmored persons were milling about, talking about something amongst themselves. "Tech Sergeant," she prompts quite forcefully.

"Aff, Star Captain," one of the three persons replies immediately.

"What is the disembark for the refugees on the shuttle _Retriever_?"

"That's them?" he asks, surprised. "Hot damn! Dispatch actually sent me to the right place for once! A miracle!" The three had shoved off from the wall they were nearby, and stopped themselves carefully in the vicinity of the catwalk exit. "C'mon, people, let's get you out of the shuttle catwalk and somewhere decent, not this bloody madhouse dock area. First, anybody injured and need medical attention?"

"Mother?" Ashe asks.

"No, I'll be all right," her mother replies. Word came forward of only one thing outstanding.

"Sir, we have two deceased in the parts hold; they were capped by Blue Cosmos during their try to stop the shuttle," one of the older guys says.

"Wonderful," the Tech Sergeant replies in clear sarcasm. "Damned terrorists. We can't help the dead, but we can give them proper burial rites. Any other injuries?" A cacophony of negative responses echoed forward through the catwalk. "No? C'mon, then, we'll get you all situated in the crew lounge, it's the best area around here for now. Bloody cargo dock was not meant for a civilian shuttle..."

"Tech Sergeant, I will have a Marine Point see to the deceased," the Star Captain says.

"Aff, milady. All right, people, my Assistant Tech will show the way to the crew lounge. Please follow close, this is not a good place to get lost in."

Ashe tuned out what she was physically hearing, instead listening around her with her mind. To the right, she could hear a crew of Junk Guild techs that were haggling with a Quartermaster over the price of material ingots in bulk. Forward of her, she could hear a crew complement of a Dropship playing what could best be described as a drinking game. To her left, she heard nothing but static, the sound of hundreds of mental voices, nothing she could pick out individually. Without much hope of reading through, she focused visually in that direction, and was sufficiently surprised at what she saw.

The Magi had occupied the colony for less than a week, though it already appeared to be a thriving, populated colony. It made no sense for a moment, until Ashe realized that the _Mjolnr_ was a ship longer than Mendel itself and was likely crewed by the population of a small city. That small city appeared to have debauched into the colony, though if Ashe did not miss her guess only a fraction of the colony had been occupied. There had to be plenty of room left over for others, which is why the Magi had accepted the _Retriever_ and its refugees.

Her sight focused in on a pair of figures in the distance, a guy dressed in the gray of Magi soldiers, but with officer's epaulets and a significant patch of ribbons on his chest. He was speaking to a shorter lady, dressed in dark blue or black, who did not have epaulets but did have a short row of ribbons. She knew she was close enough to hear what they were saying, but she could not focus her telepathy in on them for some reason.

Even at a distance, Ashe could tell that the lady was armed with a pistol, and with enough focus she could tell that the guy was also armed. She had never once seen a military officer armed, and she had seen more than a few Earth Alliance officers, and when she looked to the Assistant Tech he was also armed with a pistol, but one that looked like nothing she had ever seen before. A ray gun of some kind, she guessed, and figured it not beyond the realm of possibility—if they could encase their soldiers in armor tough enough to take hits from Mobile Suits, anything was possible. Ashe looked back to the two Officers, and the guy was gone, but the lady was floating in their general direction—and looking straight at her.

Inside the lounge, Ashe took a seat with her mother at a table fairly distant from where she guessed the Officer would be. It did not take long for the lounge to fill up with the refugees, and surprisingly the crew of the shuttle itself also joined the gaggle of persons. The Officer was the last person in, and much as Ashe surmised moved to one wall of the room, far enough away from her that Ashe figured it possible to avoid scrutiny. It worried Ashe that she couldn't read the Officer's mind; part of her wanted to know why, part wanted to avoid the Officer at all costs in case it turned out that mind-readers weren't welcome among Magi. If she didn't stick out, she wouldn't get hammered, Ashe figured.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," the officer begins, a voice that Ashe had not heard on the news yet. She had played and replayed the news clips of the Magi, learning what they sounded like and what they really meant, but this officer was not someone who had been seen before by the long eyes of the cameras. "You are the first to come out here, the first to walk away from your home states, and upon that..."

-x-x-x-

(13 October CE 71, 1000 hours)

(Ptolemaeus Crater Base, Earth Alliance Lunar Territory)

"Lastly, I must conclude that there is a reason why the Magi are unwilling to ransom _Dominion_ and _Thrones_ back to the Earth Alliance, when they gave up all the captured _Drake_, _Nelson_, and _Agamemnon_-class ships. As such, the only truly unique system on the said ships when compared to existing Magi technology is the Lohengrin antimatter weapons, every other weapon system they have already or they have better."

"I know they used Antimatter bombs on the ZAFT GENESIS weapon, powerful weapons at that," Admiral Sutherland says. "Why would they overlook channeled positrons? Are we missing something, or did they?"

"May I venture an opinion, Admiral?" Natarle asks.

"Please do," Sutherland requests.

"As best as I can guess, they missed a step on the ladder here and there, they climbed ladders we never thought of; they shift focus away from what we interpret as classical warfare and instead present us different concepts. Their evolution of battle is something different from ours, and for good cause. However, because they took different routes, they have fallen short in certain places, and advanced far beyond us in other methods."

"That is the standing theory among the flags," Sutherland says. "Where did they go astray?"

"They do not use magnetically-accelerated plasma or antimatter beams as we do, sir. They use magnetics in Particle Cannons, rail guns and Gauss Rifles; their only involvement with magnetics and plasma or antimatter is magnetically containing them, not projecting them in beam configuration. When that plasma lets loose its fury, or antimatter as ZAFT learned, best it be that involved parties be elsewhere. On the other hand, I think that is the big pink elephant for the Magi, they are not trained nor equipped to deal with a positron cannon."

"Their Achilles' heel is the cannons they denied us, and the warship platforms in question," Sutherland says. "What corroboration do you have on it?"

"I overheard more than a few of their crew saying they wanted a tour on the _Dominion_, just so they could, erm, blow stuff up with antimatter weapons. You can rest assured the people I heard this from were the less-than-savory part of their crew, they were in the brig for various offenses."

"Indicators from the higher-ups?"

"Aye, the Star Admiral let slip that he considers the Lohengrins to be very powerful weapons. It could all be a false-flag, sir, but it would have to be a very pretty false flag at that."

"It would make sense, though," Sutherland says. "They cold-cocked your ship in a big hurry, sending two of their Monitors to force an entrapment, when either of those ships could have outgunned yours in a one-on-one engagement. They hammered on your ship with Mobile Armors, and not just a few of them. On the _Thrones_, they sent four of their best to intercept that fleet—and specifically to make sure the _Thrones_ did not close to striking distance on the _Mjolnr_. I think they deliberately target the _Archangel_-class ships for a reason, and given what you said, that reason is now fairly clear."

"Understood, sir, that may be the answer to their overwhelming naval superiority," Natarle replies cautiously.

There was a moment of silence as Sutherland wrote down a couple of notes. The whole conversation was being taped for a clean-copy of the brainstorming, but he still made side-notes on what was not said just as much as what was. "Interesting piece of intel for you, Captain," the Admiral begins. "Your old ship, the _Archangel_, apparently it and the renegade ZAFT ship, _Eternal_, had a falling-out with the Magi during the negotiations. We were witness to a battle between their Century Commander, Gerald Lightbringer, and the two renegade ZAFT Gundams. We don't really know what the result of the battle was, but after that messy skirmish the only side represented at the negotiations was Orb, in addition to ZAFT and the Magi."

"Trial by Combat," Natarle replies. "The Magi have a system that people can use, called Zellbrigen. In it is a ritual of combat called the Batchall, and provisions for various combat Trials. If I don't miss my guess, the two Gundams challenged the Magi for some reason, and it came down to the battlefield to settle the difference."

"That makes sense," Sutherland replies, not having been told of such rituals during his brief contact with the Magi. "The Century Commander did say it was a 'professional dispute with two pilots from the Eternal', and declared his victory by saying 'they now know not to dispute my professional opinion,' if I remember his phrasing correctly."

"Arrogant bastard," Natarle replies, having been told up front to speak freely during this session.

"Indeed, but he is at the least good enough to back it up," Sutherland replies. "And that can be another weakness we can exploit; we would have to be real careful, but arrogance, pride at its core, is something we can play with. How widespread was it?"

"Quite a bit," Natarle muses. "Their opinion of our forces was rather low."

"Perfect," Sutherland says, almost giddy with the possibilities. "Pride does goeth before the fall, but only after the broken ass-bone does one realize the cost. Dicey waters, but I think we can use this to our advantage."

"They underestimate us, and pay the price in the end?" Natarle asks. "That may be a very steep price for both our forces and theirs to pay, sir."

"Explain, please," Sutherland asks fairly.

"They are definitely arrogant, but as you said they have the skill to back it up. Their four best are capable of destroying or capturing whole fleets, including an _Archangel_-class ship, which until these guys showed up was veritably unstoppable by ZAFT. I heard of their training and drilling when I was in captivity, they start their soldiers off at twelve to sixteen, six months basic training followed by their AIT course (5). For a pilot to become a Mobile Armor operator, they have to train in as a Mobile Suit operator, qualify and test out in real combat, serve a minimum time period, then fight a Trial for the right to advance to Mobile Armor. Then they will train in on the basics of Mobile Armor, specialize in a given Mobile Armor unit, then test out again in real combat. Failure in quals or test is grounds for reassignment or expulsion from the program until they can come back and do it right. Assuming no failures, a pilot will train for six years minimum to become a Mobile Armor pilot, as far as I could recount their program."

"Sweet Jesus," Sutherland replies. "If I had six years to train my men, I could take the PLANTs with a dirty dozen men armed with pocket knives and brass knuckles," he grumps. Though his phrasing was a gross over-exaggeration the concept still held. "That puts a whole new spin on their pride issues, they've earned at least the bulk of it." He pauses, staring at the wall and thinking hard. "Wonderful, freaking wonderful. We have to counter with training and better equipment, then."

"Wolf-packs," Natarle blurts out.

"What?" Sutherland asks.

"Wolf-packs, sir. The Magi are big into the history of warfare, so we use history against them. Shift down, spread out and hit them from several sides, like the submarine wolf-packs of World War Two. They expect us to use large fleet set-piece battles and appropriate tactics, which to them looks like nothing so much as a shooting gallery. Change the paradigm: give them no large fleet. Use smaller wolf-packs of ships. Increase emphasis on anti-MS warfare, since the absolute most ships they can deploy right now is nine ships. If we have to go toe-to-toe with their Missile Frigates, we get in close where the missiles aren't as effective. The _Archangel_-class ships are very vulnerable to attacks from the rear, so we can exploit that weakness with some creative planning. On the big-gun Destroyers, we stand off with Lohengrins and chop them to pieces outside their big-gun ranges. On the _Mjolnr_, well, God help us, I can't think of anything that wouldn't be suicide."

"Maybe that's it," Sutherland replies nonchalantly. "They expect us to expect that attacking the _Mjolnr_ is suicide. If they decommission any of their ships, that is going to be the one in mothballs. The crew requirement for that one monster ship is more personnel and units than any two of my fleets, so they will have to pull the plug or risk depleting their resources before they can fix it. If they mothball, we will have the advantage in numbers that the _Mjolnr_ could tear apart effortlessly."

"Could it really be that simple?" Natarle asks, almost dumbfounded by the thought.

"They have to repair it before they can go home. That is their weakness: they have to decommission it so it can be repaired, and so it does not cripple their efforts to gather resources. The foe we cannot defeat in conventional battle is itself circumvented by their own intentions."

-x-x-x-

(16 October CE 71, 1500 hours)

"...And upon that, I welcome you," Commander Ward tells the auditorium crowd, following the general speech that Calamira had given five days prior to the first refugees.

The crowd turned out to be something more than even the hard cynic Glennaste Ward had expected. He expected ne'er-do-well, riffraff, the dregs of the individual societies, and to an extent he saw some among the crowd. The punker on the left with the green spiked mohawk looked to be trouble, though physically not a challenge to the Commander, just as one example among a dozen in the crowd. On the other hand, the bulk of the crowd were simply families, tired of living under constant threat of the ongoing race war on Terra, and clearly showing it.

"Without doubt, the bulk of you are here to flee the various forms of oppression, either the threat of Blue Cosmos on Terra or the threat of political and socio-economic retaliation from ZAFT. You have come to the right colony for such escape: neither Blue Cosmos nor the hard-liners of ZAFT have a free hand in these lands, and my C-O is intent on keeping it that way." Commander Ward did not know the details of how that would be, but he suspected Calamira factored heavily into it, possibly even the Ship's AI. "Some of you are here because there is little to nothing left economically on Terra, and the PLANTs are not much improved. There is opportunity here, but I cannot guarantee any hard numbers: we are just picking up ourselves, everyone has much to learn as to what is needed, and what we have to offer."

There was some murmur from the crowds, but it died down fast enough. "Some of you have come for a better future for your families. Whether that future is truly better or is not rests entirely in your hands. Magi believe that it is our hands which shall write our fate, and now it is your fate that shall be written by your hands. What you put into your effort is what you can reasonably expect from your efforts. I have never heard of a get-rich-quick scheme that actually worked, and I think this colony is lacking in that department as well." The fact that one Salvage crew chief was in the hospital and one of his subordinates was dead served as ample proof that even picking up the junk of the deceased was not foolproof. One of the four shuttles' worth of persons in the auditorium had passed by that accident site on the way into the colony, and had seen the body laid out and covered.

"A small fraction of you have come seeking vengeance, be it against ZAFT, against the Earth Alliance or their Blue Cosmos puppet-masters, or even against the Magi. I will **not** stand here and tell you that you are wrong to seek vengeance," he says, which drew an immediate ripple from the crowd, one that took almost thirty seconds to quash. "What you believe is your prerogative, and I have no right to challenge it. If you believe that you can live without raising a hand to anyone, by all means do so. If you believe that you need to challenge an established system, again, it is your right to believe that. Were you to believe that Mars has a subterranean population of aliens secretly plotting to take over the world, kindly inform the aliens that they owe me fifty bucks and I will collect sooner or later." Most of the crowd got the joke for what it was, though the laughter was short-lived. "What you believe is what you believe, and you may believe that freely in these lands. However, your belief ends at you, your family, or your group, and inflicting those beliefs on others is...a bit discouraged."

The crowd was rather neutral at that thought, though Ward could tell they understood what he meant. "I am told that some of you have come seeking a new challenge, a new land to conquer, a new system to live under, or even some of the rumored projects to come, such as interplanetary travel," and there were a few loud cheers among the crowd, in the area that Glenaste thought they would be. A couple of rough-around-the-edges types that looked and acted like thrill-seekers. "There is plenty to challenge among the lands of the Magi. One of my personal favorites, back when I was young and dumb, was tournament Aerofighter racing. Especially in debris or asteroid fields. I lasted as long as it took to fly a fifty-ton omnifighter into the side of a comet. That wasn't pretty, especially after the bill for the destroyed fighter hit my mailbox." There were a few chuckles from some, and an even louder cheer from the adventurous ones. "Look, and you shall find your challenge."

The crowd stirred for a moment as Commander Ward paced a few steps, but grew silent fast enough. "In short, there is much here, and there shall be even more in the coming years. Many hands will be responsible for the expansion and the enrichment, but there is one thing that I need make clear before you hear otherwise. The Earth Alliance is a representative republic, and a rather detached one at that, unwilling to listen to its member states or its citizens. Magi do **not** operate like the Earth Alliance: we buried our politicians thousands of years ago, after they tried destroying our homeland in the name of 'social justice'. ZAFT is a loose coalition of the PLANT governments, with a clear disconnect between the people at large and the people who make the decisions. There is no disconnect between Magi citizens and the administration, because you are the administration just as much as you are the citizens. Every Magi citizen of age has the right to vote on issues pertaining to where you live and the government in general. You may vote how you wish, or you may vote not at all, it is your choice. When you vote, these decisions are then carried out by the administration—the military. There are no middleman representatives that may or may not truly represent you. There is no disconnect between the government and the people. There is only you, each of you, and what you choose to vote. I expect most of you will be voting, though I would prefer you all speak up. We warriors like to know what the people think, what the people want, it makes our jobs easier and your lives just that much better."

There was some disbelief throughout the crowd at his last statement, though again the dissension did not last long. "I hate to sound so cliché when I say this, but the rest is really just common sense. Magi are big on common sense. If you have questions, ask one of the soldiers. If you have complaints, pass them on, we need to know what is going wrong so it can be fixed. There is a packet under your seats with some basic reading material, a quick primer on the basics of Magi society, some of the high points and basic regulations. Again, if you have questions, any of the soldiers should be able to answer them or find someone who can answer it. Also with the packets is a computerized note-tablet. This is your basic application for a Codex, an identification necklace that works like normal state-issued identification with some extra features."

The room came alive with people of all ages picking up their packets and the computer tablets. "I need to make one thing clear, if you intend on voting, you have to have a Codex. No exceptions. The system is set up to authenticate your vote by your codex, to prevent voter fraud. You would be surprised how many people would try to screw honest citizens in votes, trust me, I saw one of those horror stories in action. It wasn't pretty. For school-age children, college or technical schooling, your Codex is your school records, certifications, and grade card. For employment, a Codex is needed about half-and-half, some employers require it, some do not. For sure, if you are going to work as contractors for the administration, you will need a Codex. Honestly, your easiest path is just to fill it out once and keep the darn thing on you. Any of you worried about security, about people stealing your identity, rest your fears. First, nobody has ever cracked the Codex network from the outside, not once in fifteen thousand years. The only place that it can be cracked from the inside is the radio room on the very big warship parked outside and to the left." The Commander pointed directly at the _Mjolnr_, which made it clear which ship he was referring to. "Also, unlike ZAFT or the Earth Alliance, if your identity is stolen, the burden is not on you to rectify it, the military police handle such matters. You report it to us, we track down the culprit and, erm, 'sort him out' as the commo boys usually call it." That fact was the tipping point for most, as a few that were holding out had been identity theft victims, and were relieved that they would have help fighting for their identities that were supposed to be secure. "Last person I heard had committed Codex Fraud was doing ten years pouring concrete sidewalks, I think she ginned up a hundred fake codex necklaces for some of her friends to rig votes. It did not end well for any of them."

"Also, one last thing pertaining to Codex necklaces. Every military officer has one, and you have the right to ask them to display it, to verify their identity. If you think you are being shined on, if you think the person who is talking to you is not a Magi military officer, call them on it. Ask them to verify their Codex. You cannot be refused, it is a court-martial offense if any military officer refuses a codex verification outside of a crisis situation. If you are refused and you're not being shot at or the building you are in is not on fire, or something similar, find a uniformed Marine and report that officer. That's called the 'Anti-Bolivian-Fire-Drill regulation', it's to prevent someone from impersonating an officer and ordering you to do things that would otherwise be illegal or immoral. All of that is spelled out in your packets."

There were a few grim chuckles at the last thought, but only because such things were not unknown from happening. "All right, before I continue, any questions?"

The first few questions were simply the leading edge of the incoming torrent, and the Commander only belatedly realized it.

-x-x-x-

(17 October CE 71, 1915 hours local time)

"Absolutely amazing," Rico says. "The old place is still intact."

"What was this place?" Ed Harrelson asks, looking back and forth across the complex of interconnected buildings by way of his Gundam's external optics.

"About a century ago, this was an Argentine tank factory. I used to play 'explorer' here, when I was a kid. Place has been abandoned since before the resource wars."

"Tank factory?" Ed asks rhetorically. "Wow. We could easily hide all our Mobile Suits in here, and have room for several companies more."

"Well, let's do it, then. We rest here tonight, tomorrow we'll go down to the villa, say 'hi' to my parents, see what's going on in the world."

The support van pulled up to the bay doors and opened them for the machines. "Whoa!" Samuel shouts, immediately pointing his beam rifle at the silhouette of a tank in the shadows of the building. "Oh, that thing is practically a fossil," he says before lowering his weapon.

"Old sucker for sure," Gina, the only other Gundam pilot in the unit, says. "That thing has to be middle of the 21st century, if I'm guessing right," she notes.

"Close, date of manufacture on that old relic is 2083, the flower of the Argentine military industry of that time," Rico says. "Sad thing is, the best of South America wasn't shit compared to the North American systems, though we were breaking par with the Europeans at that time."

"Man, that's old school," Michael radios them from the support truck. "Boss, looks like we won't be parking a company of Suits in here, all the manufacturing equipment is still intact, if rusting. We got room for ours and maybe two more."

"An Argentine tank factory out in the middle of nowhere, overgrown and impossible to see from the air, this is a good place to be. Think we can do some damage from here?" Ed asks of the whole team, since his blossoming effort was an all-volunteer thing.

"It gets better, amigo, three-quarters of the townspeople in the villa don't know about this place, the other quarter don't care about it. A few kids may come up here, but that's it, and that's pretty rare. Besides, by tomorrow, with the way my mom talks the whole town will know your underwear size."

With the four machines parked inside the bay doors, the support team began closing the bay while the pilots secured their machines for shutdown and recharge. With the exception of the few support personnel, everyone had gathered nearby the two old and rusted tanks that had been abandoned by the manufacturer centuries ago.

"Pow-wow time, I take it?" Samuel asks.

"Yeah," Ed replies. "Might as well pitch camp, get a fire going and some hot chow. We also need to figure out where we start."

"Easy," Gina replies, watching as the support personnel connected a charging cable to her GAT-333 Raider Full Specification machine. "The Buenos Aries garrison has to be supplied somehow. I say we 'reallocate' those supplies for our own use, and for the villages in the area."

"Supply raiding sounds like a win to me," Samuel says. "They won't be soft targets, they'll probably travel in convoy because of the raiding up in Venezuela, but I think the four of us can turn the opposition into mulch."

"Speaking of mulch, how many of you got waxed by the Magi last month?" Edward Harrelson, Rico, and Samuel all raise their hands to Gina's question.

"I hate to say it, but I'd love to have their kind of striking power right now," Samuel replies.

"You never told us how you got it, Sams," Rico prompts while unfolding his camp stool. Ed was assembling the cooking burner, Gina was sorting out the meal itself, and Samuel was measuring water for the intended recipe and everyone's allotted ration.

"I was assigned to guard the Peacemaker force, driving a Long Dagger," Samuel replies, handing a cup of water to Ed. "They hit us all at once from the left flank, like a fucking ton of bricks. Four Dendrobium Mobile Armors, a Val Varo, and an Elmeth. Diamond Element, we later found out, their second-best Mobile Armor formation behind Angel Team. We didn't know what the hell was going on, all I saw was a wall of micromissiles tearing through the Moebius units without relent. When the Armors came upon us, the few guards left after the missiles, it was a slaughter. I couldn't even slow them down, the Dendrobium I squared off against was completely beam-resistant. I got lucky and dodged a beam cannon round, but I flew head-first through the anti-ship beam saber it carried. That was it for my machine, ten fucking seconds and a demotion for not 'taking one of them with me' as that bastard C-O of mine said. What about you, Gina?"

"Diamond Element is their second-best, Angel Team is their best. I squared off against the Angel Team in a Strike Dagger. You can guess how that ended. I guess I should count myself lucky, the rest of my team also fell at their hands and not one of them lived to tell about it." The fire was going properly, so Gina began preparing the stew for the evening meal. "While we're dishing absolution, what about you, boss-man?"

Ed chuckles grimly at the thought of being the 'boss' of a ragtag bunch of misfit rebels hailing out of Villa el Podunk, Argentina. "I was farther up the line, towards the right flank and trying to bust through to ZAFT's superweapon, same Sword Calamity I have now. I didn't get waxed by the Magi, my fate was even more bizarre. I ran into the _Eternal_ and its pilot-slash-guardian-angel, the Freedom." There were groans around the campfire, as the power of the Freedom was well known to the Earth Alliance. "I held him off for about seventy seconds, but that Gundam is something else entirely. He got me, arms and head with two lightning-quick slashes of the beam saber. After that, the rest was academic for the _Eternal_ and the Freedom, they went through the rest of the force I was attached to like a blowtorch."

"Ouch," Michael groans. "I might as well cough up, then. I got it on a return-to-ship run to escort a wounded friend back to the ship. His MS was already combat-ineffective, so the Mobile Armor pilot only targeted me. I was expecting the beam cannon, which got the ship I was headed at, but I wasn't expect a small Gundam in the center of it with a beam rifle. Two shots, no controls. End of my story."

"I wonder what they're like," Elizabeth, the crew chief for the support personnel, asks nobody in particular. "We know they're human, but what else are they? Just soldiers, cosmic assholes, a nation of smoking-hot guys, what?"

"Nah," Gina says, ladling out soup to the crew. "In looks, just about average, except for a lot of their pilots have weird facial tattoos. Must be a fashion statement of some kind."

"Neural interface," Samuel says. "I talked it over with the pilot that captured me, he had neon pink interface tattoos. His wife chose 'em for him, he said, though I'm not taking bets on that being true if you know what I mean. Anyway, they control their machines directly with their minds, like it was an extension of their body. Only problem is, internal damage may cause feedback and injure the pilot."

"That's nuts! Who in their right mind would chance cooking their brain for a few millies off their battle times?" Rico half-shouts.

"Apparently, they're crazy enough to try and brilliant enough to make it work," Gina replies sourly.

"I'd settle for their Suits," Michael replies.

"We won't get that lucky," Ed says. "We're on our own, until we can convince the people of our homeland that resistance is preferable to being the Earth Alliance doormat."

-x-x-x-

(20 October CE 71, 2130 Hours)

(Orb Administration Complex, Office of the Chief Representative)

Cagalli Yula Athha and Rondo Mina Sahaku had decided to go over the treaty and see where changes could be implemented to be either more advantageous for Orb, or mutually advantageous to the Magi and Orb both. It was a long and tiring process, and not much really could be changed in a document that was already highly advantageous to both sides, but in such lawyering was a deal sharpened and made all that much better. Getting through it, however, was the hard part.

"Just goes to show you, these Magi are not simply soldiers, they know how to bargain at least as well as the Senate."

"They are more reasonable than the Senate, Rondo. Some days, I would not step into the chambers without a sidearm and an escort. I can trust the Magi will not do anything of such a nature."

"Politicians, what do you expect?" Rondo consoles, considering herself more soldier and stateswoman than politician. "Regardless, here is something that may create a trade imbalance," and she points out the figures to Cagalli. "If I am doing the math right, that comes out to forty-two million earth-dollars, plus or minus five hundred thousand per year, in their favor."

"Not bad," Cagalli says, given that said sum was a serious chunk of change to a nation as small and battered as Orb, and probably more so to the Magi in the here-and-now. "On the other hand, given our negotiator's notes on that exchange, the Magi make up for that shortcoming on our side by way of preferential prices on salvage now and mining later. Their estimate, given what we requested as a floor figure for imports of refined metals, came out to one hundred thirty-two million in our favor over three years, give or take up to seven hundred thousand per year depending on demand or supply."

"So, if we end up exceeding the floor figure, and Morgenroete alone will almost assuredly exceed that figure, the Magi end up in the hole on this one."

"I don't think they realized that what we offered was a floor figure on imports. Let's sweeten the deal for them, hedge the discount down just a bit. It will still be in our favor on the floor figure, technically, and it will give them something back. Of course, I expect Morgenroete and Ame-No-Mihashira will be taking advantage of those rates, and not for resale purposes, right?"

"At that price?" Rondo barks a sharp laugh. "I could turn out M1 Astray units at a veritable profit with the rates the Magi are giving us on materials. Too bad I can't sell those suits back to them, right now at least."

"I will likely have to fight to get our defense industries back in the retail market, but I think I can win that at the peace treaty conference. Feel them out tomorrow at the table, see if they would be willing to replace their aging or derelict machines with Astray variants when I secure the right to sell to them."

"Knowing them, they will buy in bulk," Rondo says. "Of course, since they won't give up on the fusion engine scene, and so far my agent hasn't been able to get close enough to get data or diagrams, they will probably have them shipped without a battery and just put their own engines in at Mendel. Instant profit," Rondo sounded almost gleeful at the thought, only because manufacturing the necessary high-capacity battery systems was simply a major pain for either Morgenroete or Ame-No-Mihashira due to the scarcity of certain needed metals and industrial chemicals. DuPont was dead, and everyone was paying the price for it.

"Oh, wow, last page," Cagalli says after flipping pages. "Nothing here to change, really."

"Yeah, I think we tweaked everything we could probably get by with, and that is conservative," Lady Sahaku replies. "Anything else, ma'am?"

"Yeah, two things." Rondo breaks out a notepad and pencil, to be assured she kept track of the requests. "First, the cease-fire accord says we cannot deal in military-grade fusion reactor technology with Mendel. See if they are willing to bend that phrasing, I remember from some of their technicians in a bar that they had industrial-grade fusion engines, nothing worthy of combat, but powerful enough that one or two engines could run a small city."

"If we could get our hands on that, it would be immensely helpful to the recovery efforts," Rondo says.

"Also, same issue, they have alternative engine technologies, like fuel cell engines. See what you can wheedle out of them on that note. I heard it was possible that some of those fuel-cell engines were usable in combat units, and if that is right it would solve our problems with the Astray batteries running out before we run out of enemies."

"It would also help that power-hungry demon you ride," Rondo says, referring to the Strike Rouge.

"Oh, yeah," Cagalli replies, not even thinking about her personal machine. The Strike Rouge IWSP was renowned for being extremely powerful and lethal in her hands, but it did have a maximum fifteen minute operating time under full combat stress. Less, if she had to handle large swarms of enemies at range. An engine that produced power instead of just storing a small amount of it would be an immense help.

"Second?"

"Second, this is not something I want in writing, you will need to discuss this with their senior officer directly, outside the negotiations. By the by, who is their senior?"

"Galaxy Commander Rico, their Aerofighter commander."

"Slick operator, then, he'll be perfect for the planting of this bug. Before I front the plan, you do know what the Earth Alliance is doing right now, right?"

"Destroying their economy so they can backbuild a military capable of challenging the Magi, if I don't miss my guess," Rondo says almost nonchalantly. "After the Mages, it will be ZAFT's turn, then ours, then the rest of the earth sphere."

"Exactly. The Magi undoubtedly know this is happening right now, courtesy of Calamira and her ability to read anyone's mind, probably even our minds as well as others. That bastard Sutherland survived the Second of Jachin Due, he won't give up and he has definitely grown a brain after the Magi waxed his fleets. Not to mention, one of the sharpest Earth Alliance officers ever, Natarle Badgiruel, was returned to the Earth Alliance due to the accords. They have the brainpower to do the job, just not the horsepower. We need to find a way to keep them from getting the necessary horsepower."

Rondo smiled savagely at the thought. Since the death of her twin brother, Rondo Ghina Sahaku, Mina had mellowed on the realpolitik and scheming, instead biding her time and defending the last of Orb's 'active' space navy, two _Izumo_-class ships and the military station Ame-No-Mihashira. When Cagalli came back and came into power, Rondo knew the insufferable rebellious princess of days past was dead and buried, replaced by someone that Rondo called 'touched by the Magi'. As far as Rondo could tell, Cagalli knew what she needed to do, what she wanted to do, who she really wanted to marry, and generally how to do all of the above. Cagalli still showed as gruff and idealistic, but she had also seen the cold, hard reality in the dead space around Terra, and the pointless inferno of hatred in the Second Battle of Jachin Due. She would still hold the nation as neutral and uninvolved, but Rondo also knew that the Chief Representative (nee rebellious princess) would find a way to get the job done.

"What would you recommend as an opening position?"

"A quiet lunch at a decent but not overly-pricey restaurant, just you and GC Rico, to discuss 'matters of mutual interest'. I highly doubt that Rico is going to be able to give you hard answers on the spot, he will probably defer up his chain of command. He answers to Gerald Lightbringer, technically, and I think but cannot confirm that Gerald has his hands in deep, dark secrets that not even the Magi would admit existed."

"Lions, tigers, and bears, oh my," Rondo quips as joke, though got no laugh from Cagalli.

"Raw lion chunks, iron nails, and broken glass is the diet of some of the company Gerald kept that I saw when I was on the _Mjolnr_. Ever seen someone whose eyes were hardened, who looked at everyone except a chosen few as enemies? Someone who looked like they could do unspeakable evil and never regret it?"

"Whoa," Rondo knew exactly who Cagalli meant, a good ration of such soldiers were in her employ at Ame-No-Mihashira. The Earth Alliance 'Socius' program had turned out hardened soldiers the likes of which Rondo Mina thought should never be seen by mortal man. Now, Cagalli was obliquely telling her that the Magi had their own cadre of such hardened soldiers on a ship that was looking to be less and less of a joke as the days go by. "Ah, I see where this leads. We use them as a stalking horse against the Earth Alliance, where they stir up trouble and sabotage while we stay blissfully uninvolved."

"Close. We will have to get involved in several fashions and at several levels, but I learned an interesting concept from the Magi, something I now realize you and your brother lived by, then and now: plausible deniability." Cagalli ignored the squirm from Rondo Mina, figuring it was inevitable at this point in the game. If the tables would be turned, it would be Cagalli doing the squirming; she would have liked to think the person on the other side of the desk would afford her the same courtesy where it her doing the squirming. "We will support their efforts in any fashion we can, be it material, manpower, transport, or protection, but we will make these things appear to be support of the Earth Alliance and their position, or appear to be nothing at all, or appear to be something insignificant and unrelated. Deception is an old tactic, a mainstay in Sun Tzu's Art of War. We have become too focused on the technology and the trade of the war (6), it is time we reintroduced matters of the mind to this battlefield." Rondo Mina Sahaku could not help but chuckle mirthlessly at the thought, though Cagalli drove on with her typical disclaimer. "I don't want to be involved in this sort of thing, but if we do not do it right this time, there will be no second chance, the Earth Alliance will flatten us."

"Still and all, it is an elegant operational concept, milady," Rondo Mina chuckled again. "And for that, I already have a concept we may be able to use to our advantage. I will need to draw up some plans, maybe discuss them with Colonel Kisaka?"

"He would be a good starting point," Cagalli says.

"Thank you, Lady Cagalli. I shall begin on this immediately."

"Thank you, Rondo. Good luck with the negotiations tomorrow."

Rondo was gone from the office, leaving Cagalli to her own devices and her myriad of paperwork. She simply resigned herself to the stack of reports waiting for her to review, though she had not read through half a page before a knock at the door drew her eyes up sharply and away from Morgenroete's rebuilding report. "Come in," she says to the door.

It was a certain blue-haired Ace pilot that stepped through the door and closed it behind himself, though now (as opposed to a week prior) he was not wearing a sling for his left arm. "Still hard at work, I see," Athrun says quietly. "Don't you ever get out of this madhouse?"

Despite his admonishment, Cagalli had abandoned her desk for an embrace from the pilot and her one real love left in life. "Well, this job is like gravity. I can jump as high as I want, it just won't let go for any lengthy amount of time."

The two had taken seats on the small couch in the room. "Good to see you're not going crazy about it, though," Athrun says.

For Cagalli, the joking would have to wait a minute. "You're better now?"

"Yeah, the doc cleared me yesterday," Athrun replies. "I've been down in the defense forces hangars, cleaning up and working on Justice."

"And you're asking me about being hard at work? About not getting out of this madhouse?" Her tone was a bit sharp and very accusatory, as if he was applying an unfair standard to her.

"I earned that," Athrun replies drolly.

"Well, since we're both worried about each other and this madhouse, what say we ditch the madhouse, the work and the worry for a night?" Cagalli asks sincerely.

This caught Athrun off guard for a moment, though not for long. "Who drives?"

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

Honestly, I was not expecting the polarized a response from the last chapter.

In all reality, I did not like some of the tact I took in the last chapter, but when I write something as dictated by the dice, I stick to it without hedge. This chapter is also clear indication of taking tack that I don't like, especially since I don't like terrorist cronies with a brain (Sutherland). However, the dice have spoken; I shall stick to my ground with all fortitude and drive onward, leaving only blood smears and tank tracks in my wake. Har har har. (On an aside, sometimes the dice do cooperate with my intentions. The rebels in Argentina are an example of one part that the dice did play nice. Now, as to them getting anywhere, that is another story entirely, for which the dice shall speak again.)

Incidentally, I have not shown much in the way of scheming on ZAFT's side at this time. There are several good ones I have in store for ZAFT and several good ones for the Earth Alliance. Combined with the ambition of the Sahaku in Orb, you did not think I would give anyone an easy time of it, did you? Certainly not the Magi, even after the millennia of war they still get the corncob every once in a while. The author daresays they are due for the next one. Of course, one very large pineapple is awaiting everyone at the end of this road, so...

Also, a point that came up during the two-stage beta read process for this chapter. Freedom, Justice, and Gerald's custom Physalis were not totaled beyond repair, despite some of my phrasing that may or may not have been ambiguous during or after the battle. All three said Gundams are going to take a lot of work to fix, however, and will be out of service for some time to come.

I think I will cover anything else in the Review Replies as needed.

* * *

Review Replies: A lot of feedback on this one, and a lot of it was very sharp. Regardless of bent, I thank you all, and especially **Rabe Adler**. Rare is the person willing to outright challenge an author, unless it is someone calling a Troll out. Of this, you have my accolades.

**Rabe Adler** (Initial Review, points not readdressed in PM / Second Review). Your PM function is turned off, unless you want me to post replies out here, may want to turn it on. As such, I will reply to your reviews in series, point-by-point.

(1): Depends on your definition of 'good'. I don't ever remember calling the Magi 'good' in any classical sense of the word. More to the point, Magi do have a severe case of attitude, especially in matters of honor and combat, and herein you get to see a lot of that in all of its assholiness. One of the things that I have not been able to properly convey is that the MMC and specifically the six Star Empires are 'grey and grey morality' in TV-Tropes parlance, not strictly good or bad in any nominal sense of the words. To each side, what they do is what they believe is just, and everyone else may (and frequently does) think otherwise.

Right and Wrong is best determined by what the reader brings to the story, and that is what I intend for the Jokers Wild storyline just as much as the Multimage Chronicles themselves. I am a neutral broker in this one, I simply write based on my intended core flow of events and modify as the dice determine I need to modify. As much as it sounds like I am bullshitting here, I am trying to keep my personal bias out of the story. For the record, I am pro-ZAFT and I have no particular animus against Lacus. I do take some (minor) issue with Kira, and I have a disdain of the CE Haros, but those are another story entirely AND I am required to acknowledge that Kira is an ass-kicking pilot all the way around. Hence his defeat of one of the Magi's best pilots, Gerald Lightbringer. Note, however, that with this chapter you see Orb trying to edge ahead and chisel itself out some advantage, which is the product of the dice.

(2): Okay, amigo, why would I write 250,000 words to bash Lacus? I could do the same in 5K and achieve the same net effect on target. More to the point, I do not character bash whatsoever, despite appearances. I am working on more thorough procedures for handling negative dice results at this time, so you should not see a deviation from norm as you did in the last chapter.

(3): My politics are wildly separate from the Magi on a lot of core issues. Again, a lot of Magi arrogance bled through in last chapter, and involved parties will get their retort on the Magi in short order.

(4): Okay, this one is a valid one, the battle with Gerald has an appearance of an ass-pull. Unfortunately, the flow of the plot (and events not written yet in the MMC) that would explain Gerald more thoroughly cannot be revealed yet, as that would constitute spoilers for two separate stories. My policy is no spoilers.

On a more broad note, I should make it clear that everything I do I do with clear purpose, clear explanation, and clear knowledge of what I am doing. It may not be readily visible, perfect ref in this case, but you can rest assured there is both reason and clear delineation to it (ergo, he did not just shit a magic brick with those skills, he had to acquire them somehow). Of course, in all things there is a natural tendency towards chaos, and the more powerful or prevalent an element may be, the more likely that element will generate chaos of a not-so-healthy type for that being that is powerful or prevalent.

(5): Ref the clarification below in Rabe Adler's PM.

(6): Again, I come back to my point of gray and gray morality. Given the high tone political discourse in your review, it is fairly evident that what you believe and what I believe are two wildly separate set of principals. This is a good thing: the world does not need more detached, strategically ruthless mo-fos like I.

Following in pattern, your comment of the Magi being irredeemable monsters may be accurate, or it may not be. It depends entirely on what a person believes is redemption, what can be redeemed, and what is beyond the pale. Again, this story has the sole intention of presenting the narrative, not my opinion. I know how it will end, I know what will come of the parties in between this chapter and the final section, and as such I must be wary to stay the course as I have framed and how the dice modify the individual events. In so doing, I must make sure at all times I am following the tendencies of the parties involved, and even then I can overshoot.

In short, you get out of this work exactly what you read into it. Nothing more, nothing less.

**Rabe Adler** (Review for CH11 / PM):

I give you credit where due, and challenging me on a point-for-point basis in your initial review is credit due. I will admit that your PM caught me more off-guard than the initial, though, as I did have to reread your initial line three times before your intent caught.

(1): On this point, I must respectfully disagree. At the point of time of the Second of Jachin Due, present social and military factors in ZAFT's corner would have made a conventional victory pretty much impossible. ZAFT was taking losses faster than the society could replace them, a classic war of attrition on the Alliance's part. Additionally, even if the BC influence was stripped out of the EA command structure, a second war would come in due time due to the animosity that such measures would generate. In either case, ZAFT win, neutral outcome, a second war would be inevitable, the only difference would be the length of time before the second war.

(2): On the Magi with iddqd (Doom's God Mode cheat) activated, perish the thought. In any work I write, there is no such thing as God Mode, period. There is no plot armor, just ask Dearka, Kristen Redmond and Athrun from Archangel's Amazing Adventures. The Gods themselves are subject to being killed off, even the superiors of the Gods are subject to death in rather humiliating, strange, or bloody ways. You can rest assured I am doing no favors for the Magi. Or anybody else for that matter.

As to restraint via the Idiot Ball, I can see where you are coming from here. Again, this folds back on my issues with the dice, and working on procedures to mellow such sharp swings. I am trying to prevent this kind of crap from happening again.

(3): No insult intended, nor taken by the various sides. Wayne's proposal, though it sounds arrogant, is simply quantifying the ZOC and providing for hard-written guidelines. You would be surprised what kind of abuse of power can be when rules are 'adjusted on the fly' and not written down.

(4): By your definition, any governing state in Existence, and this includes IRL real-world countries, can be considered terroristic in at least a small measure, and any attempt to use political influence or oblique military power is simply escalation of that. Therein you step into the gray and gray morality trap again: what one person defines as right is cause for another person to kick first person's ass. It is a logic trap, and a rather nasty one at that, one that I have fallen prey to more than a few times in my life. I found out the key to avoiding the trap is to mellow out and look past your own beliefs, see what other people think. Don't become a doormat, but don't cram your own beliefs down another person's throat.

You are quite correct on one point, though, the Magi have a severe propensity to be every bit worse than Blue Cosmos, and the Magi actually have been worse in the past than Blue Cosmos could ever dream of being. All six of the Star Empires have done some things that would make the average Sci-Fi reader shit bricks, the Magi in particular have a bad rep on some planets that has never been shaken. On the flip side, the Star Empires also have some truly miraculous events, technologies, and processes to their names, good things of life and love that many stories never get the scale right on, never show the epic results right. Who knows, some shit like that may happen in this story in due time, maybe not. Only the dice truly know of the outcome, I am simply the stage-manager of the events contained therein.

On Nietzsche, one of my college papers was on his works. Yet, given your quote, how does one determine if you have become the monster? How does one determine if you are the abyss? All this becomes subjective, a matter of opinion of the involved sides. And once again we encounter the logic trap...

You have my thanks for the reviews, and I hope this has clarified my position to an extent.

**Smiles** (Anon): Thanks for the clarification, I almost always gets the Fates of past and future backwards. One would think I have it squared away by now, but noo...

**Knives91**: Gerald will earn his shadow reputation in the MMC, though it will be long before that is written up. Needless to say, though, Kira is not one cut out for the hard line of the Magi, and will be challenging them on more than one occasion in due time.

**Valeia**: First off, much thank you for the review. I understand that there are many who read and do not review, and I would like to thank you for taking the time to poke holes in the inconsistencies of my writing. The Gods only know that keeping all this straight is nearly impossible...

(1): The original version is considered invalid and is now superceded by the revision, and that includes Flight and the sub-stories Dilemma of Flay Allster and Inferno in Chicago, all of which will be rewritten. This is due to the finalization of outstanding details about the Magi and the other Star Empires, as well as revision of the original and successive Jokers Wild series.

On the issue about perceived fanaticism, this is a valid concern but only to a point. Gerald is an old-hand hard-ass, quite fanatical and willing to do as ordered when ordered for the Empire. Most others, no. Magi tend to be a little more pushy when they perceive that someone's honor is being stomped on (ergo, Lacus trying to downsize the military of the two sides), but for the most part Magi tend to be apathetic about what happens around themselves, preferring to leave matters alone unless required to be involved.

(2): On your concern about Lacus being almost OOC (if not completely so), I am taking steps now and henceforth to prevent such radical swings. Most of that was my playing to the dice without a proper ramp-up / ramp-down to the stated position. In short, I am going to try and prevent this happening again.

(3): Well, strictly speaking, I would not call getting the Physalis HW LC chopped up and requiring three months overhaul easy handling of two ace pilots. Again, this one comes down to the dice, and you can see clearly where the dice flopped back and forth between advantages to Gerald and advantages to Kira or Athrun. Granted, by the numbers Athrun may have had it worse or Gerald had it easier on him, but the fact that Kira practically disassembled the Physalis HW where no other soldier has lived to tell the tale about it is ample proof that he is no pushover.

(4): Specifically, there was no psychoframe reaction or angel illusion during the Mobile Doll battle due to the fact that Gerald's Neue Ziel does not have a psychoframe. The most it has is a quasi-Psycommu system for handling the remote arms with greater precision than average, but that is a non-reactive technology.

On the part of the Magi getting their way, I must refer you to Rabe Adler's review reply part four and Rabe Adler's second review reply, part two. The illusion / psychoframe reaction was done with clear purpose and clear background, though I cannot discuss Gerald's background as it would constitute spoilers for two or more stories yet to be written. I did it for a reason, but I highly doubt Kira would be fooled twice if there ever was a rematch. And a rematch is quite likely given what will be going on in coming chapters.

Again, thank you for taking the time to review when you normally do not. Much as I sound like I intended to inflame and counter, I respect all opinions and input.

**Etienne Of The West Wind**: An honor, even if most of the chapter is at respectful disagreement. As I stated in my afterword, I do not like taking some of the tact the dice call for, but I am sworn to the writing as chance sees fit, not as my opinion ventures.

Para 1: You are right on that account, she was no pacifist, nor did she push for unilateral disarmament. She pushed a less-than-ideal force structure that would have made any kind of attack from either side impossible. What she didn't realize, however, was such numbers would have been suicidal for the EA forces. Case of did not do her consulting.

Para 2: In my personal opinion, Lacus is no airhead. From the Magi perspective, however, "people who think limiting arms is going to solve the world's ills are airheads, incapable of understanding real history, etc.." Again, not my opinion, Magi opinion. The thing with Murrue and Mu came down to the dice, they took a very soured opinion of the Magi after the battle with the Justice and Freedom, not necessarily for or against Lacus opinion. Kira was trying to help Lacus out in her position for the reason you stated, Athrun was simply making sure his thick-skulled friend did not get in over his head and ended up in the hot-seat. In short, I think I could have explained the background machinations a lot better than I did.

Para 3: Again, a technically correct and beautifully-argued point on all accounts. I am aware of these facts, though the position the Magi take is a case of a bit of polar-leaning historical myopia on their part. Magi tend to look at the atypical origin of World War II as direct cause of disarmament, humiliation from the Treaty of Versailles, and economic stagnation and depression. The rise of the Nazi party is generally (not always) considered direct cause of these factors by Magi, whereas contemporary historians would argue along your lines (a charismatic sociopath at the helm). An interesting short-sight for an otherwise historically-versed people, I daresay.

Final: As I stated above (somewhere), the Magi have a bit of an attitude on affairs military and honor, and to those parties that piss them off, there will be a lot of attitude. Arrogance is a problem Magi have had off and on over the millennia, and I don't see that being rectified for some time to come, but a wise foe can use it to their advantage.

Once more, thank you for the review. I hope this chapter was not as sharp as last one in your opinion.

**Deathzealot**: You are quite right, the actions the dice forced me into are quite insane, and I am taking helluva steps to make sure that the dice do not royally fark the narrative again.

On the point of Admiral Sutherland, let us suffice it to say that the dice decided he will survive, and that oversight on the part of the Magi is going to cost them quite a bit in the long run. Political Admiral though he may be, he has seen Magi fury in deploy and he knows how to fight, as demonstrated in this chapter he is already working on ways to stick it to the Magi. You can guess how hard and bloody this will get for everyone involved...

Thank you for the review, I hope this one was more along the lines of proper in your opinion.

**Gatomon41**: Your opening gave me a much-needed laugh after four reviews that clawed my chapter up one side and down the other (twice, in one case). Much thanks :)

Short way to answer your first outstanding point, the Three Ships realized during the fighting that the Magi were something more than they had initially sold themselves as. The Magi had not been entirely incorrect about who they were, but they had been a bit underestimating about some things, and seeing them in real no-holds-barred battle changed opinions drastically. Specifically, Lacus sees the Magi and their presence (and their attitude of 'war is constant, inevitable, and guaranteed bloody' in Magi parlance) as a serious threat to a possible ideal world. The Magi are the grim slap in the face to pacifists everywhere, and they tend to be a bit arrogant about it as well, as evidenced by their attitude during this chapter.

Patrick Zala is not through yet, nor is Ezalia Joule. Much more is to come of them in chapters to come, though to what extent Patrick has seen the error of his ways is yet to be determined by the dice. Ezalia, despite being expatriated, has not given up her heart for the PLANTs, and is going into Mendel with the hope of swaying them from turning guns on ZAFT again. Once more, only the dice know how effective it shall be, or if it will be needed at all.

Like the battle scene with K & A against Gerald? Smile, because there may be a repeat if the Magi don't play a little nicer in coming chapters.

Again, I point out that Lacus' position is a derivation of the dice, and I am trying to prevent such sharp swings furthermore. While I do not call Lacus an airhead in my opinion (Magi opinion differs), I do consider Relena Peacecraft an airhead. Anyone who can read history should understand that humanity is a walking conflict, and trying to stop that conflict is akin to trying to stop the march of scientific progress. It cannot be done, barring some kind of major global catastrophe.

**Necroblade**: The apologies are due on my side, it is I who preempted you instead of waiting for the beta return, and for that I apologize.

Lacus may yet get her chance to sway the course of the world, for she will be at the full Junius Treaty Negotiations as per a clause written into the Jachin Cease-fire accords. This will not be a case of 'here we go again', though, this one is for real and everyone will have their game on, including the Magi.

As I stated above, a repeat offense between Gerald and Athrun is a possibility at this time. Especially if Athrun catches wind of some events to come...

Ref my comment above for what shall become of Patrick. The dice know, not I.

**Thank you all for the reviews. I expect a sharp review when I earn it, and I dare to say that I earned it with Chapter 12. I hope this chapter was not so off-the-wall that I repeat my prior offenses... Remember, keep those reviews coming, the more gas cans involved, the more intense the inferno shall become :)**

* * *

The Gripe Sheet: There were a few gripes pointed out to me, mainly because I preempted my Beta reader. This time around, my story went through the beta wringer twice, so I think I ironed out all the spiders and wrinkles. Much thanks to **Necroblade** for the assistance, as usual :)

* * *

Footnotes:

(1): **Flag Officer** refers to any Admiral rank. Thus, non-flag officers are Commodore and below, who may have command authority over a ship or small flotilla but do not warrant a flag.

(2): to **offer surkai** is Clan jargon, meaning to offer an apology.

(3): **West**ern **Pac**ific

(4): **V**HF **O**mnidirectional **R**ange beacon—used by aircraft and spacecraft (if equipped with the necessary gear) to ascertain their position and navigate without getting lost. More crucial in between planets, though in areas of high debris they are helpful for pointing our safe corridors.

(5): **A**dvanced **I**ndividual **T**raining, this is where a basic recruit is turned into a specialist of some kind—an advanced infantryman, a Gundam Pilot, a Combat Mage, etcetera.

(6): **Trade of war** is in reference to the actual execution of a war, and its subsequent victories and defeats based on battlefield merits, not necessarily strategic acumen.

* * *

TRO SECTION:

As much is made of the _Archangel_, _Dominion_, and _Thrones_ by all sides of the conflict, here is my present Battletech / Aerotech TRO take on the said ships, the _Archangel_-class, including custom fluff text pertaining to the ship.

**AeroTech 2 Vessel Technical Readout**

**Class/Model/Name:** LCAM-01XA Archangel Class

**Tech:** Mixed Tech / 3067

**Vessel Type:** Monitor (Non Transportable)

**Rules:** Level 3, Standard design

**Mass:** 350,000 tons

**Length:** 450 meters

**Power Plant:** Standard (C)

**Safe Thrust:** 6

**Maximum Thrust:** 9

**Armor Type:** *Laminated Armor*

**Armament:**  
2 Lohengrin Cannon (C)*  
4 Gottfried Mark 71 (C)*  
26 Screen Launcher (IS)  
2 Valiant Mark 8 (C)*  
16 Igelstellung (C)*  
24 MP Missile Tube (C)*  
16 Helldart (C)*

**Overview:**

During the first ZAFT-EA War, the Earth Alliance was at a disadvantage against the naval and mobile forces of the ZAFT forces. In counter to this, the Earth Alliance, with assistance from the Morgenroete Corporation of the neutral nation Orb, began production on five prototype Gundams and a support Warship. Despite the loss of four of the Gundams, the Earth Alliance hung onto the Warship and one of the Gundams, the LCAM-X1 Archangel and the GAT-X105 Strike, respectively.

**Capabilities:**

The LCAM series of warships was designed as a high-speed, high-armor, high-firepower Mobile Suit carrier that is capable to fight anywhere--in space, on earth, and underwater. As such, it has a large and varied listing of capabilities that make it a deadly match for any force it faces, be it space, land, air, or sea.

The Archangel-class was designed with mobility in mind, for use as an autonomous attack unit serving separate of the main Earth Alliance forces. As such, the ship's speed in space falls between that of the slower Nasca-class and the faster Laurasia-class, though the named classes of ships are well outmatched in any other fashion by an Archangel. More to the point, the raw speed and maneuverability of the Archangel well exceeds any other Earth Alliance ship, even double that of the older Nelson-class ships. For in-atmosphere operations, the Archangel employs a levitator system with redundant backup that masses 10 percent of the ship's weight, but allows the ship to hover over the ground without consuming precious fuel. In atmospheric operations, it will use the levitators to maintain an altitude over the ground and use its main thrusters for propulsion, and the aerodynamic sub-wing for maneuverability. For underwater or naval travel the Archangel can use its self-contained jets underwater, giving it speed comparable to most underwater submarine ships.

The armor construction of the Archangel is designed of a composite laminate alloy with heat-ablative gel and anti-beam depth charge launchers that allow the ship tremendous survivability against beam, ballistic, and missile weapons. The armor composite, in addition to resisting physical impacts (missile and ballistic) dissipates heat from beam weapons and the Archangel's primary systems throughout its surface, thereby allowing it to receive glancing blows from energy weapons and suffer little damage to the armor in that area. To aid in such protection, the Archangel also has an ablative gel discharger system that normally is used in atmospheric entry to protect the ship from immense heat, and the Anti-Beam Depth Charge systems. The latter spreads a pattern of reflective and absorbing particulate in close proximity to the ship that absorbs some of the beam energy and deflects the rest in a harmless direction. Ammo for each launcher is limited, and the battle usefulness of each canister is limited but while it lasts it renders the ship relatively immune to beams from that directions. The only direction that the ship is not capable of defending using these Depth Charges is directly forward, though this can be remedied by using some creative maneuvering on the crew's part. (See Special Rules at the end of this section for the full array of numbers and rules)

Though the spread of the weapons on the Archangel is experimental, the two major advantages that an Archangel has over most of ZAFT's arsenal is both quantity and quality of fire. Not including the Anti-Beam Depth Charges, the Archangel carries a total of 52 weapons ranging from the Igelstellung all the way up to the unheard-of Lohengrin. The main guns of the Archangel are the two turrets of the Gottfried Mark 71 beam cannons, each with a 225cm beam; these are used mostly against other warships or otherwise slow or stationary targets, though the Archangel has been known to use them against Mobile Suits and other small targets; These weapons are mounted on turret assemblies that give them a wide arc of mobility for cross-range targeting. The two assemblies each contain two of the Gottfried guns, and each pair of guns is usual fire-linked, though they can be fired separate of each other (one barrel from each turret, say).

The secondary guns of the ship are the Valiant Mark 8, which are mostly used against other ships and small craft, though the former with less accuracy than the latter. The Valiant guns are known to have overheating problems in atmosphere, though this is more than made up for by their turret assemblies that allow them to fire directly forward all the way to directly rearward. These weapons are almost always used independent of each other, due to their axial nature.

The main weapon for use against small targets is the multipurpose missile tubes located on the tail binders of the ship, and the Helldart launcher located on the aft facing of the conning tower. The Helldart system consists of twelve silos that fire one type of missile that is useful against most target types, though serves best against fighters and Mobile Suits. The Multipurpose silos, twelve of which face forward, twelve that face rearward, can be loaded with multiple types of missiles (anti-armor, anti-small craft, anti-air cluster munitions, and anti-ship missiles). These missiles are considered teleoperated missiles and can be programmed to do many things by the user, including wait at a specific location for x amount of time then attack an intended target. Any combination of the missile launchers may be used without regard to the other weapons systems or missile silos.

The main Close-In Weapons System of the ship is Igelstellung, a 75mm anti-air rotary cannon that can be used to shoot down both aircraft and missiles. It is a dual-use weapon system, depending on the settings issued by the weapons controller it can automatically track for threats, put up an area-denial barrage, or be used to conduct pinpoint strikes or any combination of these settings across the 16 of the Igelstellung guns. In theory, four of the guns could be assigned to auto-intercept missiles while the other twelve were used against swarms of fighters harassing the ship. Igelstellung plus a key role in the defense of the ship, and the loss of one or more guns can seriously hamper the life expectancy of the ship.

For the real big targets that require real big firepower to take care of, there is the special purpose Lohengrin cannons, weapons which use a positron beam instead of plasma, ions or photon energy. These are still energy weapons, and technically are only slightly slower in travel time than a typical Successor State PPC weapon. Their main advantage, however, is that these two cannons are insanely damaging compared to most other naval weapons; The paired Lohengrin cannons are literally capable of blowing through the Nasca and Laurasia class ships the long way, and by extrapolation can do the same to any Earth Alliance ship as well. These weapons are usually fired at the same time, but can be figured individually if the situation only calls for one helping of mass destruction. Note that these weapons have a neutron scattering effect when used, and can be lethal to unprotected humans in direct line of sight to the beam.

**Variants:**

The Dominion, the second vessel of the Archangel class, has an upgraded sensor array, but otherwise is almost identical to the Archangel. Variance in the results of the battle between the ships can be drawn from the crews and command staff of the ships in question.

**Notable Vessels & Crews:**

LCAM-01XA Archangel, Captain Murrue Ramius  
The first of the line of the Ship Class, the Archangel is often considered to be the most powerful ship in existence between the ZAFT forces and the Earth Alliance. Its launch was under duress, most of its travel was under duress, as it desperately tried to get to Alaska by blazing a path through the ZAFT forces. At the JOSH-A disaster, the Archangel deserted the Earth Alliance after coming to the conclusion that they had been betrayed by their nation. The ship then ended up fighting the Earth Alliance alongside Aube forces at Onogoro, then in space at Mendel. They finished the first war as a neutral party, fighting alongside a ZAFT ship, the Eternal, to end the war before another nuclear holocaust occurred.

The annals of history often record that the Archangel is considered a 'cursed' ship, as though many have tried to sink it, no force has ever caused enough damage to render it completely combat ineffective.

LCAM-01XB Dominion, Captain Natarle Badgiruel  
The second of the Archangel line, this ship was sent into battle ostensibly to sink the Archangel. Though the two ships fought long and hard on several occasions, it was the Dominion that was finally destroyed by a Lohengrin blast from the Archangel to the bridge of the Dominion.

**Deployment**

The Archangel was intended as an autonomous unit, though circumstance has left it autonomously trying to return to Earth Alliance territory being hounded by Every ZAFT force in the vicinity. In traditional military deployment, the Archangel would serve as a fleet flagship for the Earth Alliance, or as an escort to the Agamemnon class ships.

**-=SPECIAL RULES=-**

Movement: The Archangel is considered a Warship for movement order in Aerotech or Battletech play, whether in atmosphere or in space. When moving in atmosphere, it conforms to the rules of a Spheroid Dropship for purposes of hovering, but an Aerodyne for flying and turning. When moving in Battletech turns, this unit covers a distance equal to twice its expended thrust in a turn.

Combat: The Archangel uses the Warship firing arcs instead of Dropship firing arcs, regardless of where it is. When used in Battletech scenarios, this unit is allowed to move and fire in all six turns using weapons listed as firing in all six turns, or as the rules list them.

Lohengrin: This weapon can fire only once every five minutes (Five Aerotech turns, or thirty Battletech Turns). This weapon system has a range of ten mapsheets maximum if there is Line of Sight to that range. Note that this weapon can be targeted on a hex instead of an object or enemy, in which case the target hex is turned into a two-level-deep crater, and the six surrounding hexes from the impact point are reduced one level. Since this is a beam weapon that has a neutron scattering effect, any exposed personnel, be they field artillery or conventional infantry, will be killed at the end of an amount of turns equal to their distance from the beam if they were in line of sight to it. So, while a platoon of infantry behind a hill would be unaffected, an artillery unit perched on the hill with line of sight to the beam that transited five hexes away from them would have five turns to live before they were killed by the radiation effect. Note that any unit, regardless of type or affiliation, suffers an immediate crew killed effect if they were in the hex of a beam transit but were not struck by the beam.

Gottfried: The beam cannons of the Gottfried turrets can be fired individually or linked, though they are typically fired linked. The turret assemblies they have allow these cannons to fire in the same fashion as the arm arcs on a Battlemech: the left turret can target from right forward to left rear, but not directly to the rear or to the right rear, and the right turret can fire from left forward to right rear, but not directly backward or left rear. These cannons follow the normal Aerotech restrictions for firing at enemies above or below the unit. This weapon may be fired every three Battletech turns.

Valiant: Valiant Guns only receive a -1 penalty for firing at a unit smaller than a Dropship, instead of the classic -5 for using a capital weapon on a small target. These weapons follow the Sponson Turret rules from Maximum Tech, in terms of where and how they can fire. These weapons may also fire straight up or down, and do not follow the restrictions for targeting units above or below the warship. This weapon may be fired in every Battletech turn.

Igelstellung AMS mode: when used as an AMS weapon, they follow all normal rules for AMS and deduct ammo accordingly to those rules. For purposes of intercepts, treat them as Clan AMS weapons. In this mode, they may only be used once in a Battletech turn per Igelstellung cannon.

Igelstellung Barrage mode: the Igelstellung will designate any number from one to six consecutive hexes, and each hex will be attacked with a denomination of AC/5 equal to the amount of ordinance expended by that gun. So, a player may barrage one hex with six rounds or six hexes with one round each, or one hex with three rounds and two hexes with one round each. In this mode, the Igelstellung will fire a minimum of four rounds and a maximum of six. If there are multiple units in the hex, friend or foe, the unit hit is selected randomly from the units in the hex. In this mode, they can only be used once every other Battletech tun.

Igelstellung Auto-track (Intercept) mode: When used like this, treat the Igelstellung as a Rotary AC/5 with all appropriate rules, except that an Igelstellung will only jam on a roll of 2, regardless of how many shots fired. In this mode, they can be used once in each Battletech turn.

Note that a player may switch modes on his Igelstellungs at the end of the turn only, and all Igelstellungs may be set independent of each other. Also note that when firing at targets above or below the Archangel, these weapons conform to their assigned firing arc and only half of the weapons in each arc may target a unit more than one level above or below the Archangel. So, if an Igelstellung array was to target a Helicopter four levels above the Archangel and in the broadside arc only, then only four of the Igelstellungs on that side would be usable on it.

Helldarts: Treat Helldarts as standard capital-grade missiles. They may be fired cross-range at any target, following restrictions for shooting at units above or below the ship, but when firing at targets in the front three hexes of the ship they lose one bracket of range (they are considered short-range missiles only, not medium-range). Helldarts do not use special munitions rules.

Multipurpose missile tubes (24 on ship): Twelve of these tubes fire forward, twelve fire to the rear. As with Helldarts above, these tubes may fire into the opposite arc but lose one bracket of range due to cross-range maneuvering. Additionally, they are munitions-specific weapons, and using the wrong munitions on the wrong target can have adverse effects on hitting, to the tune of +3 penalty on the to-hit roll. The player must specify what kind of missile is being fired at the time of launch. Before the scenario begins, the players with Archangel-class ships are to designate what kinds of missiles are available for their weapons. Ordinance choices are: Anti-Mobile Unit (use on craft smaller than 500 tons), Anti-ground (use on ground vehicles, battlemechs and mobile suits on the ground), anti-ship (use on subs, surface naval, and space naval vessels, as well as DropShips over 500 tons), and anti-air shrapnel (treat as LB-X AC with 50 points standard scale damage, in the same fashion that MRM-40 is rolled).

Anti-beam Depth Charges: The listing for the Screen Launchers is this weapon. These have a range of 1 hex and only cause 10 points standard damage to a unit in that hex. When a beam weapon is fired through a hex containing this charge, the weapon damage is cut in half (round up) and deducted from a value of 20 capital-scale for each depth charge detonated in each hex. The beam does not get to the ship if it encounters this defensive weapon; treat it as a missed shot. The cloud of particulate follows the same heading and speed as the ship at the time it was launched, and will be removed from the board if it leaves the play area. Note that this has no effect on targeting and using ballistic or missile weapons.

Laminate Armor: Treat ballistic and missile hits as normal. When resolving energy hits, divide the damage in half (round up) and apply the damage to the armor. The other half of the damage is applied to the ship's heat scale. If the ship's heat scale exceeds +200 over neutral heat for that turn, the armor fails and all damage is doubled to the ship until the heat goes below +200.

* * *

**Class/Model/Name:** LCAM-01XA Archangel Class

**Mass:** 350,000 tons

Equipment: (Mass)

**Power Plant:** Standard (126,000.00)

**Structural Integrity:** 130 (45,500.00)

**Safe Thrust:** 6

**Maximum Thrust:** 9

**Heat Sinks:** 2,375 Double (1,829.00)

**Fuel & Fuel Pumps:** (7,000.00)

**Bridge & Controls:** (875.00)

**Food & Water:** (50 days supply) (54.50)

**Armor Factor:** 1,428 *Laminated Armor* (900.00)

* * *

Armor Value** (Capital Scale)**

**Fore:** 262

**Fore Left / Right:** 238 / 238

**Aft Left / Right:** 238 / 238

**Aft:** 214

* * *

Equipment & Options:

**Cargo:**

Bay 1: Mobile Suits (1+1 personnel) (12) with 2 doors (2,400.00)

Bay 2: Fighters (2) with 2 doors (300.00)

Bay 3: Light Vehicles (to 50T) (5) with 1 door (250.00)

Bay 4: Cargo (1) (10,350.00 Tons)

**Grav Decks:**

Grav Deck #1: (150-meter diameter) (100)

**Life Boats:** 10 (7 tons each) (70)

**Crew and Passengers:**

35 Officers (34 minimum)

60 Crew (80 minimum)

60 Gunners (77 minimum)

10 Steerage Passengers

53 Bay Personnel

* * *

**Weapons & Equipment:**

**Loc, SRV / MRV / LRV / ERV**

**Heat, Mass**

1 Lohengrin Cannon (C)*  
Nose, 65 / 65 / 65 / 65  
1,000, 25,000.00

1 Lohengrin Cannon (C)*  
Nose, 65 / 65 / 65 / 65  
1,000, 25,000.00

2 Gottfried Mark 71 (C)*  
FL/R, 60 / 60 / 60 / --  
1,600, 20,000.00

4 Screen Launcher (IS)(60 scrns)  
FL/R, -- / -- / -- / --  
80, 1,520.00

1 Valiant Mark 8 (C)*(30 rounds)  
L/RBS, 20 / 20 / 20 / 20  
30, 15,030.00

2 Igelstellung (C)*(200 rounds)  
L/RBS, 4(40) / 4(40) / 4(40) / --  
24, 60.00

2 Igelstellung (C)*(200 rounds)  
L/RBS, 4(40) / 4(40) / 4(40) / --  
24, 60.00

4 Screen Launcher (IS)(60 scrns)  
L/RBS, -- / -- / -- / --  
80, 1,520.00

2 Igelstellung (C)*(200 rounds)  
AL/R, 4(40) / 4(40) / 4(40) / --  
24, 60.00

6 MP Missile Tube (C)*(60 msls)  
AL/R, 30 / 30 / 30 / 30  
300, 3,000.00

6 MP Missile Tube (C)*(60 msls)  
AL/R, 30 / 30 / 30 / 30  
300, 3,000.00

2 Igelstellung (C)*(200 rounds)  
AL/R, 4(40) / 4(40) / 4(40) / --  
24, 60.00

4 Screen Launcher (IS)(60 scrns)  
AL/R, -- / -- / -- / --  
80, 1,520.00

16 Helldart (C)*(240 msls)  
Aft, 40 / 40 / -- / --  
160, 1,280.00

2 Screen Launcher (IS)(30 scrns)  
Aft, -- / -- / -- / --  
20, 380.00

1 Lot Spare Parts (5.00%) (17,500.00)

1 Levitator System (35,000.00)

2 Turret Assemblies, Valiant (1,000.00)

2 Turret Assemblies, Gottfried (2,000.00)

**TOTALS:**

**4,746 Heat**

**349,998.50 Tons  
**

**Tons Left:** 1.50

* * *

Calculated Factors:

**Total Cost:** 1,404,578,000 C-Bills

**Battle Value:** 168,097

**Cost per BV:** 8,355.76

**Weapon Value:** 87,142 (Ratio = .52)

**Damage Factors:** SRDmg = 4,343; MRDmg = 4,281; LRDmg = 3,236; ERDmg = 1,037

**Maintenance Point Value:** MPV = 592,178 (185,428 Structure, 262,900 Life Support, 143,850 Weapons)

**Support Points:** SP = 575,730 (97% of MPV)

**BattleForce2:** (Not applicable)


	14. Rebel Yell

(Jokers Wild, Set 1, Chapter 14: Rebel Yell)

(25 October CE 71, 0400 hours)

"Looks like...about twenty trucks, two Linear Tanks, four Strike Daggers and a Long Dagger," Rico says. "I'm clear, nobody saw me."

"Hike your ass back to your machine, if that Long Dagger pilot is worth anything we'll need all guns on target to take him down," Gina tells the forward scout.

"Roger that, moving now."

"Michael, status of the ground teams?" Edward Harrelson asks.

"Ground command, we're good to go, boss. Just say the word."

"Sam, Rico, and I will focus first on the Duel Dagger," Ed orders, typing the machine as the later version of the class...and just that more dangerous than a Long Dagger. "Gina, when we open, I want you to take out whatever machine is in the front of the convoy, trapping them, then start on the Strike Daggers. Michael, when we begin, ground teams wait five seconds then open up on the Linear Tanks and any dismounted personnel. If battle continues for more than 90 seconds, all forces retreat and return to base. All sections acknowledge."

"Ground reads," Michael replies.

"Samuel, got it," said Strike Dagger pilot replies.

"Gina, ready to go," she says as her machine brings up two of the machine guns that were normally attached to hardpoints on the wings.

"Rico, rough and ready," his Strike Dagger had taken aim on the Long Dagger, though a finger was off the trigger at this time.

"Commence on my mark," Ed pulls the two Schwert Gewehr swords, though does not activate the beam blades as of yet. His targeting systems were still readied to use the Scylla beam cannon, a weapon he had to use sparingly due to its extreme power. "All forces stand to."

A symphony of four 'go' acknowledgments came back over the radio. Ed sighted up the head of the Long Dagger with his Scylla, waiting for the reticule to return red highlights, acknowledging a locked-on target. It only took two seconds before it locked up.

"Fire!" Ed shouts, being the first to fire himself. His Scylla cannon chopped through two trees on the way to the head of the Long Dagger, though even with the foliage it still had more than enough power to demolish the head of the machine in one stroke. Less than a full second later, two beams from the Strike Daggers tore through the chest of said machine, one only causing internal and armor damage, the other ripping apart the all-important battery and rendering it unable to operate.

If the veritable annihilation of the Long Dagger was not ample evidence of a guerrilla attack, the bark of 75mm machine guns from the Raider Full Spec completed the thought. One burst of machine cannon took out the lead Linear Tank, the other burst was aimed at the rearguard Linear Tank but did not contact. With the lead vehicle rendered inoperable, the convoy immediately came to a screeching halt and could not go forward, trapping them in the perfect position for the ambush.

The Earth Alliance Strike Daggers were caught unaware by the first shots, but not rendered dumb and complacent. Two of the Daggers immediately jumped backwards to get out of what appeared to be a fire lane, the other two hunkered down behind shield and began firing on what they thought was the guerrilla position. Ed had been careful to site the ambush so fire was limited to certain angles courtesy of the trees, and in this the Earth Alliance Strike Daggers had moved too far forward to get a good angle on the mobile suits. Shot after shot went downrange, though no shot made it more than a hundred meters before being stopped cold by innocuous plants.

The five seconds delay passed at a crawl in the perception slowed by battle stress, yet the march of time is inevitable even to those in a gunfight. With the waiting done, the guerillas on the ground sprang into action, taking the force under fire from the far side of the road to the Mobile Suits, trapping the Earth Alliance between two walls of fire. The assault rifle was the common weapon among their ranks, but more of use was the 40mm grenade launcher and various man-portable rockets and missiles. Since the rebellion had started, there had not been much in the way of time or resources to train in their use, but distance made up for the inexperience of the shooters. The back of the Strike Daggers were large targets, easily serviced by the semi-competent gunners on old Dragon and Javelin AT missiles and AT4 or RPG-7 unguided rockets. With a third of the shots missing still, the dozen hits against the backs of the four MS was crippling, easily punching through areas effectively unarmored or having only enough armor to stop light arms fire. Only one of the Daggers survived, and that only because the pilot was lucky enough to be crazy enough to try flanking the obviously superior ambush forces.

"What? Oh shit! Incoming!" Gina shouts, picking up the trace of the incoming Dagger as it jumped erratically in their direction.

"Gina! Pull back 300 meters and prepare to reengage the convoy crawlers!" Ed shouts before activating the beam blades on his massive anti-armor swords. "I've got this one! Rico, Samuel, close up on the convoy flank!"

The Dagger landed off-balance and stumbled forward a pace, its main jump jets damaged from a Javelin strike to the rear exhaust ports and causing instability. Ed continued to close rapidly on it even as the machine struggled to right itself, though the pilot knew something evil this way was coming and wisely dropped aside his beam rifle in favor of his saber. His quick reaction took Ed a bit aback, yet the two machines still closed on each other. The first collision was overly loud as the two rammed each other inadvertently, the EA pilot misgauging the distance in the pre-dawn darkness. The EA pilot was not long in recovering, though Ed beat him to the punch by a half-second: the first actual combat stroke between them landed on the Strike Dagger's shield and drove it back.

"Damned guerillas!" Harrelson heard over the radio, and gave the comms panel a quick glance to check the frequency. It matched the Earth Alliance general band, which was good news for him. "All Earth Alliance Forces on this channel, this is convoy Charlie-Golf-3-1-4, we are under attack 65 miles—" Ed cut his attempt to give their position away by way of grappling with his machine again, this time with both swords. The pilot loosed a feral grunt as his machine was overborne and knocked to the ground. "We're 65 miles east-south-SHIT!" a wild swing by the Strike Dagger came close to tearing the foot off the Sword Calamity, but Ed capitalized on the pilot's lack of mobility by firing his vulcans into the head and chest of the machine. Disoriented and with his radio cut off, Ed ended the engagement by impaling the machine through the battery.

"That's it, the rest of the convoy is captured," Rico says.

"He didn't get enough of a position off on the radio, but someone will likely pick up the distress beacons soon enough. We need to get these supplies moving!" Ed orders.

"Ed the Ripper wins another one," Gina says, despite the fact that she had caused far more casualties than he did.

"Kindly do not call me that, please," Ed replies. "That name, it really does not suit me."

-x-x-x-

(27 October CE 71, 0600 Hours Orb Time)

"Is this thing supposed to make noises like that?" the greenhorn radio operator asks. Teana was completely new to the thought of interplanetary travel, and the fact that it had taken this massive ship only six hours to move from L4 to the outer reaches of the atmosphere made things incredibly exciting for her.

The flip-side of the prospect? The ship sounded like it was falling apart and a goodly portion of the crew came off as assholes and cynics (or both).

"No, not at all," Weps 4 replies. He was lounging back in his chair, given that nobody was crazy enough to try engaging a Dropship as it entered the atmosphere, with the possible exception of a Warship above or below the ship. In this case it was a truly moot point, not even the Earth Alliance had a ship in the area.

"Relax, kid," the sensors operator notes. "This piece of shit Dropship hasn't been in anyone's atmosphere for a couple hundred years, but it will hold together. Of this I swear."

**CLANG**. "I'm hoping you're right, Sanders," Weps 2 replies sarcastically.

**CLONG**. "It is making a lot more noise than usual for the type," the Captain notes. "Helm, status?"

"Still good, boss. Entry speed is good, we'll pass down through S-O-S (1) long before Orb would hear the boom."

"So long as the 'boom' isn't us hitting the ground faster than fifty kilos," Weps one replies sharply. His was the one direction there would be no fire to or from, since his arc of fire responsibility was the nose of the ship, and the nose was facing away from the ground for landing.

"All right, guys, enough with the bad karma preaching," Helm 2 says. "This ship may be a piece of shit but—"

"It is a Magi piece of shit," the Captain completes the thought. "We could make this landing under heavy ground fire and still walk away from it. This 240-meter sphere of duct-taped armor plates and corroding engine blocks is not going to fall apart on us."

"Or is the armor plate corroding and the engines are duct-taped together?" Weps 2 asks.

"I think the Captain got it right, sorry man," the Engineer replies.

**CLANG**. "So reassuring," the radio operator says.

"I warned you they were assholes," the Sensors operator says to the new girl, who sat adjacent to Teana's position. "All the good crews and Dropships were assigned to fleets other than the _Mjolnr_."

Teana flips a switch on her console. "Orb STC, this is Golf-Delta-Sierra-9-5-4-9-2-2, repeat your last, please." she was silent for thirty seconds, listening closely to what was said. "Orb STC, roger that, ETA landing is six minutes. Dropship is out."

The Commo officer cracked her knuckles, then began her typing. "Holy shit," the Sensors operator swears, trying to make heads or tails of how fast she was typing things in.

"Damn girl, you trying to murder that keyboard?" Weps 2 asks, though receives no answer.

All at once the typing ended. "Landing instructions passed to the helm consoles, Orb STC says we have 6 hours on ground before someone else needs our parking spot, Captain," the Commo officer says.

"Uh, how long have you been on this ship?" the Captain asks, rather stunned she had done all that in less than a minute, including the time it took her to hear it from the STC.

"Erm, about seven hours, Captain."

"And two of those hours were spent in your quarters and on the tour of the ship," Weps 3 notes, having given her the tour himself. "How the hell did you learn that station that fast?"

"Er, I hate to say this, but the ship's OS is simplistic, almost to the point of being crude," she replies meekly. "I read through the console programming code in about twenty minutes."

"Kid, if you can read through the OS on a Dropship and call it crude, you may be in the wrong profession," Weps 1 notes. "Ever thought about becoming an aerospace engineer?"

"Err, no," she replies meekly.

"What do you think, Cap'n?"

"I think y'all need to quit fucking around and get back to work," the Captain replies testily.

"Cap'n, we're three minutes out," Helm 1 notes. "Orb land should be on the horizon right now."

**Rattle-rattle-rattle-RATTLE-RATTLE-WRAAM**. "What the hell was that?" Sensors asks.

"Something important," Weps 4 replies.

"Nothing part of the ship that shows on my panel," the Engineer notes. "Still green across the board."

The captain picks up her growler phone after it buzzes. "Yeah?" pause of five seconds. "Right, got it." the phone hit the cradle.

"Let me guess, that was the pump from the hot-tub on the deck below us, wasn't it?" the Engineer asks.

"Good call, honey," the Captain replies with a savage grin. "How many times did I tell you to bolt it down?"

"Well, let's just say it was a non-negative number. I will clean the mess up after we land."

"Don't worry about it," the Captain replies. "It and the ping-pong table were vented out over the sea, along with the water from the hot tub. Not much of a mess, but someone is going to have to replace them and bolt the fucking things down this time, clear?"

"Aye, cap'n," the Engineer replies wearily.

"Wait, there's a hot-tub on this ship?" Teana asks after a moment.

"Yeah, pretty much so, just ain't working since our pump is now in the ocean we just flew over," the Sensors officer says.

"That's messed up," Weps 2 declares. "First flight of a promising trade route and we're already suffering casualties. This job is cursed."

"Entering landing cycle now," Helm 2 notes.

"Take her down smart, guys," the Captain orders. "We don't need more problems than we already have."

A warning buzzer sounded in the bridge. "Oh, shit, Captain, landing gear post nine has not deployed!"

"Shit," the Captain growls before picking up her phone. "Cargo exoskeleton to bottom deck priority! Unjam landing gear nine immediately! Thirty seconds!"

Ten seconds later: **BONG**. A moment later, the buzzer stopped ringing. "Gear down, ma'am, we're headed for the deck!"

"Don't sit there talking about it, helm, put it on the ground! Time is money here!"

The ship resumed its sinking, until the sound of the engines ramped up due to ground-effect echo, followed by the sound of a ripple of impacts as the ship's landing gear hit the ground. The last was the whole ship shuddering and groaning as the oblate engine housing hit the ground, meaning the ship was well and truly parked now. Strangely enough, the entire ship continued to groan for several seconds even as it stopped descending...

"That was creepy," Helm 1 notes. "I've never heard one of these things make that much racket on landing."

"I know it's made by the lowest bidder and all, but this is pushing it..." the Captain replies.

**CLANG**-**WRAAM**, this time the sound was distant and well below the bridge area, but rather ominously came the sound of rushing water. The intercom clicks a moment later, then clicks again signaling a loss of comms. A third click, then: "Conn, Engine Room, our water supply just blew out, the bottom deck and the engineering shaft are flooding out!"

"Fuck! Kill the engines, switch to close-circuit power only!" The Engineer took five seconds to do as ordered, sparing the ship from becoming a massive steel globe of electric shock due to the power in the fusion engine capacitors. "Comms, get on the radio to STC and get some APUs (2) out here right the hell now! We've got maybe ninety minutes of power here, we'll need more."

"Aye, Captain," Teana replies. "Orb STC from GDS, come back," a pause of four seconds. "STC, Dropship is reporting we have an engine casualty, we're going to need some APUs to run the ship and assist in getting our primaries working again. Request priority, we have maybe 80 minutes power in reserve before we're dead in the water." Pause of five seconds. "Roger that, thank you. Dropship is out."

"How long?"

"Twenty minutes for a couple small ones, fifty minutes for some larger ones."

"Cap'n, I think we have some of the mil-grade APU units in our trans package for DS support," Weps 5 declares.

"That may be enough, then." She picks up the growler phone. "Cargo bay personnel, prepare to deploy loading ramps manually. Repeat, prepare to deploy loading ramps manually. Engine casualty or not, we have a schedule to keep."

Five seconds later: "All hands, this is Load Master. Stand by for emergency ramp drop, bay one door one. All personnel clear away from the exterior of the ship! Repeat, all ground crews clear away from the exterior of the ship! Ten seconds!" The countdown proceeds as normal, all the way to the final number, then: "FIRE!"

**WRAAM-creeeek-CLANG**, with accompanying shuddering of the ship.

"Engineer?" The Captain prompts.

"Yeah, boss?" she replies.

"Two things. One, I want you to take a team of the engine mechanics and check every structural member and hardpoint on the ship for airworthiness."

"And two?"

"Order up about a hundred kilos of space-rated lithium grease and lube the fuck out of anything that is squeaking. The amount of noise this ship is making is almost embarrassing."

"Gotcha."

"All right, any of you rated on freight cranes, freight crawlers, cargo exoskeletons or—Gods help us—Cargo 'Mechs, get your butts down to the load decks and start moving shit. We assume this shitcan will be flying in three hours and act accordingly, which means we have sixty minutes to offload and one-twenty to load it up." There was some whispering between the various weapons controllers. "And put me in the bet pool as well, sixty says we do get going on time."

"Your loss, Cap'n," Sanders warns her. "Teana? In or out?"

"Erm," Teana was caught unawares by the question, as she had never even dared someone about something, much less bet money on something well out of her control. After a moment's contemplation, she decided that she would participate, at the least she could hedge her bets on staying in favor with the rest of the crew if she couldn't get a job elsewhere. "Who's ahead?"

"The 'nay' group right now, 3 to 1."

"Twenty for leaving on time," Teana decides on an impulse.

"Got it," Sanders was one of the last out of the bridge, leaving only the Captain and Teana in the bridge.

"They were right, Teana," she says. "You may be better suited to being an engineer on skills alone, but if you can learn as fast as you appear, this field isn't going to be a dead-end field for you, either. Either way, I suggest you head down to the freight decks and learn what a nightmare logistics really can be."

-x-

Cagalli absolutely wanted to see the Dropship come down and watch the process of offloading freight. It was something explained to her, how fast things moved out when the Magi got to working at it, but she wanted to see the matter for real.

More than a few of Orb's elite were a bit skeptical as to how much one ship could carry, but Cagalli had seen the inside of the ships when they were attached to the _Mjolnr_, she knew they were not boasting of capabilities. Or, at least she was hoping they were not boasting. For now, Orb's material purchases would be reliant on the transporting capacity of these _Guild II_-class Dropships, and the supposed sanctity of unarmed merchant ships on the open sea.

"Are Dropships supposed to land that fast?" Colonel Kisaka asks Cagalli, since she tended to know more about these things than even he had learned.

"I don't know, I think so, maybe?" Cagalli replies. "I know it only take them about ten minutes to go through the atmosphere normally, from space to ground level, but I couldn't tell you anything else about them."

"An amazing machine, just in size alone." All eyes were on the speaker, Rondo Mina Sahaku, who had arrived by her own transportation when she heard the first of Mendel's Dropships was going to land this hour. "And 60 percent of its mass is cargo, or so I am told. A less efficient machine, by their numbers, but incredibly useful at economy of scale."

"It masses 100,000 tons, so that would mean 60,000 tons of cargo?" Cagalli asks, to which Rondo simply nods. "That's a lot of salvage, just for a start."

"Not all of it would be salvage, I think," Colonel Kisaka replies. "They will need support equipment for the ship and other ships coming in behind them."

"Even if a sizable fraction of the ship is that equipment, that still leaves a lot of material, Colonel. The only thing we have that can match it is the base _Izumo_-class, and an _Izumo_ can't land anywhere we want."

"I have personnel looking into this classification of ship," Colonel Kisaka replies. "Nothing large like this, I heard that smaller ones exist."

"If we can get our own men in there to look at them, we can make our own," Rondo Mina Sahaku notes mischievously. "The catch is the engines, we don't have anything capable of lifting off or setting down like that. Could we cut a deal with Mendel to make engines for them?"

"Maybe, I'll have to talk with GC Michaels when he comes in later today," Cagalli notes. An edge to her voice let fly something to the others nearby her...

"Still not used to dealing with them as statesmen instead of military officers?" Rondo asks knowingly.

"Yeah," she replies solemnly. "I know what they can and routinely do as soldiers, but..."

"Then let's play nice, and hope we never have to see those guns in action against Orb targets." Rondo glances over her shoulder. "Oh, look, your attempted fiancee just showed up."

Cagalli and Kisaka both look to where Lady Sahaku was looking, and both groaned internally. The last person she wanted to deal with during this was Yuna Seiran.

"Sweet Haumea, that thing is absolutely massive!" Yuna comments to nobody in particular. "This...is what a Dropship is? I may have to take back any grumbling I made about their capabilities."

"You know, I was just wondering something," Rondo Mina Sahaku thinks aloud. "This ship costs what? A couple hundred million of their C-bills?"

Cagalli chokes up at the thought of such a cheap ship. "Not even close, Rondo. The completely stripped-to-the-bones cargo version of this ship is 700 million C-bills per copy, and this ain't the stripped down flying-gas-can version. This?" she waves a finger at the hulk the group was beholding. "This piece of work costs more than Morgenroete brings in revenue in a year."

"You're kidding!" Yuna gasps.

"Three billion C-bills for the military cargo version, like this one. Reinforced internal structure, heavy armor, and enough arsenal to swat whole companies of Mobile Suits out of the sky. Overkill, we won't need something like this for a long time, but Mendel loves 'em, fits their old Magi model well, and they say they'll need the capacity when they begin asteroid mining."

"How many troops could one of these things carry?" Yuna asks.

"Depends on the version and the type of troops. DS Cap'n once told me that there are all manner of variants of internal storage, differing from 375 omnimechs to one that carries 300 light tanks, 150 heavy tanks, and 75 ultra-heavy tanks, and adds over a thousand of their Armored Infantry to that force. There's a dedicated CV variant for fighters, carries a pair of full Clusters—300 fighters or MS, nasty stuff. If this thing ever drops by with troops, we'll, let's just say it will be a very bad day for everyone involved."

Rondo Mina Sahaku could not help but revel in the look from Yuna, the thought of one ship bringing so much death and destruction, and somewhere out there was an Empire full of such ships, full of such units, ready and willing to whoop ass if someone made overt threats to their citizens and 'protected persons', whatever that nebulous phrasing may mean. Thus far, Rondo had found the Magi to be exemplary statesmen as well as ass-kicking soldiers, in that they could be crystal clear when needed (no politico wishy-washies among Magi), and extremely vague when it suited Magi purposes. How well they dealt with crisis left much to be seen thus far, but Rondo had high hopes for their skills on that front. After all was said and done, Rondo was betting much on Magi ascendancy in the years and decades to come, if for no other reason to knock the underpinnings out from under the Atlantic Federation and any alliances of convenience they may have, and thereby give Orb a chance to move forward.

Warning lights and a buzzer sounded nearby a door on the side of the ship they were beholding, followed by a perfunctory warning to clear away from the ship. After the obligatory ten seconds, Cagalli could tell something was wrong with the doors and possibly the ship, the whole thing should have opened up by now. Her suspicions were confirmed with a pair of explosions, two pairs of charges high and low fired to drive the door out and down. She cringed as it neared the ground, then slammed to the tarmac with a resounding crash.

"They...don't normally do that, right?" Colonel Kisaka asks, noting the gouge the drop of the door just put in the tarmac.

"No, something is wrong," Cagalli replies.

"APUs," Kisaka notes. "Something is wrong if they have to power a ship with those when it's supposed to leave in six hours."

"Good...Good Haumea! What is that thing?" Yuna asks, never having seen something as butt-ugly as the biped machine coming out of the cargo hold behind two massive APUs. The gangly machine looked to be a massive MS skeleton stripped down, given the bare minimum of structural plating, rigged with a three-claw manipulator hand on the right arm and a lift crane over the left shoulder. In the two cavities between the outside frame sections and center support spindle (below the crude head of the machine), massive amounts of freight crates and palettes had been lashed in and were depending on only cables of dubious size to hold them in.

"Oh that?" Rondo laughs heartily at the trepidation of the Seiran. "That is a CargoMech, built to help speed up loading and unloading of the massive Dropships. One of those machines can carry twenty tons inside and up to forty tons outside. Powered by a fuel-cell engine and equipped with Industrial triple-strength musculature, it's basically a walking freight truck. By anybody's standard, that light machine gun on its right arm isn't a weapon so much as it is a nuisance."

"Wouldn't a freight truck be simpler—oh, there's one," Yuna corrects himself as a large semi-tractor-trailer rig drives out between APUs heading out to connect to the exterior power access junctions on the outside of the ship.

"For them, no," Cagalli says. "Freight trucks exist on worlds where there are decent roads, but not all Magi worlds have decent roads. Cargo 'Mechs may cost more, but they can go anywhere and they run practically forever without a breakdown."

"Wait a second, you mean to say that they aren't all huge and technologically mastered and advanced and—"

"I think you've read too far into what we see of them," Rondo cuts Yuna off before he embarrassed himself in front of the Chief Representative. A second door was loosed explosively, even as the APUs began connecting to the ship to begin powering it. "They have a few glorious metropolis, planets with big cities and advanced towns, the best of the best they can offer. For every one of those worlds, they have dozens that make Old Brazil look like a veritable paradise."

"I think I heard the Magi Empire is 60 percent agriculture by population and land utilization," Cagalli notes. "With that kind of leaning, it only goes to reason that non-city zones are the bulk of their land."

"Oh, great Spirits, Blue Cosmos is not going to be happy when they learn they got stomped by a literal Empire of rednecks."

"Yuna, between you, me, and this fencepost, don't tell the Magi they are an Empire of rednecks, or you may require surgery to remove an unusual random object from a very uncomfortable anatomical location," Cagalli warns him, recycling an old Magi anti-political-correctness euphemism for her own purposes. Anybody with a quarter of a brain could read through the phrasing and understand what was really being said, which was her intention.

Yuna grimaced at the warning, rightly understanding that Cagalli was the foremost expert on the Magi that Orb had at its disposal, with Colonel Kisaka a close second. "I have seen what I wished to, Lady Cagalli," Rondo notes. "If I may, I would like to discuss with you accommodations for a certain Warship that we have brought into our fold, one that may prove an excellent bargaining chip and military asset in coming years and negotiations."

Yuna was left standing alone with his driver, watching the process of unloading a Dropship, Magi style. He could feel Cagalli slipping through his fingers, steered onto some insane disaster course by the Sahaku side of the government, but he figured he could probably salvage something from her failures to come. Even if he did not take her hand in marriage, he would find a way to power soon enough...

Yuna Roma Seiran knew the Magi could not stay a step ahead of every other nation on the planet, especially if they wanted to avoid being treated like pariahs, or worse, interdimensional invaders. They would have to give more than take, or things would get messy for them fast.

-x-x-x-

(30 October CE 71, 0700 Hours)

(Mendel Administration Building, floor 10 briefing room)

"We are gathered here in this much-needed coffee-fueled attempted briefing because we have upcoming negotiations and we need to figure out what the hell and how to go about it," Wayne prompts the room. "We are going to be here for quite a while, people, so I hope you haven't become immune to caffeine in the past week, or it may get ugly. First off, the morning routine, please."

"Nothing major to report," Calamira replies. "We have three intel officers from Orb confirmed in the colony, laying low right now, two job hunting and one that has signed on with one of the corporations vying for the aerospace contracts to come."

"Are they making a power-play for advanced aerospace capability?" Gerald asks, slightly worried about such a prospect.

"They may be, though the other two intelligence officers are not as concerned with aerospace as they are power systems and mobile warfare systems."

"Grab-all plan, or is it a disconnect between the branches of their government?" GC Rico asks.

"Clear disconnect," Calamira replies. "Right now, the five ruling houses of Orb are split two-two-one. These guys know we're the gold standard in terms of pure tech, but we have dangerous limitations and they know we can't keep that position once the rest learn what we did right."

"I'd like to see them replicate some of our processes and technologies," Gerald replies diffidently. "The Negaverse dumped more time, resources, and finance into copying our advanced Infantry Armor composites than this planet has total, and they never copied our post-Star League armor properly. They had to go a different route to match us on protection, but they beat us to the next defensive paradigm a few centuries later."

"They will get some processes and materials, especially the crude or basic ones, but they cannot carte blanche replicate units and materials for which Terra does not have the necessary resources, like HarJel (3), mithiril alloys or Keset crystals, just as three examples," Wayne replies. "Even if they copied the form of our Marine armor and built it in titanium-carbide woven armor and armed similar to ours, they would not be able to stand up to Magi Marines." His wave was the dismissive gesture of this line of thinking. "Let their spies fumble about, maybe give them a freebie or two to suck them into complacency, but the one major thing we cannot allow revealed is combat-grade fusion reactor technology. Gerald, Calamira, make sure that secret does not leave this colony cluster intact, clear?"

"Aff, Star Admiral," Gerald responds immediately.

"Any other intel officers?"

"Neg, ZAFT has not tried planting one on us yet, and I am unsure if the other nations are going to try now or hold out until after the peace treaty. I do not expect ZAFT to wait too long, but the fact they have not yet tried is worrying to an extent."

"Give them time, they will try," Gerald replies. "I think we system shocked their entire force structure when we appeared out of nowhere and hammered their military flat. It is not unreasonable that they are busy recovering from that beat-down even now, we may have depleted their intelligence capabilities without realizing it."

"Would it be possible that they believe themselves above such games?" Galaxy Commander Michaels asks in counter. "Remember, two of the six Star Empires used few to no intelligence assets in the normal sense, instead preferring to get their intelligence from a combination of communication intercepts, psionic scrying, and squeezing prisoners taken in battle."

Wayne smiles, knowing this lesson well. "It also goes without saying that the two said Empires were the ones usually left in the dust when the winds of war shifted direction. ZAFT cannot afford to lose position—or at least any more position than they have already lost—and not trying to get men inside our loops would be a grave oversight on their part. Given the upcoming power players of ZAFT, I don't see them making that mistake. They will come, of this I am assured."

"For that I shall watch," Calamira replies. "Also, another thing came to mind a week back, something I was not sure I wanted to bring forward yet, but now may be as good a time as any."

"Go on," Wayne prompts when she hesitates.

"There are more Psionics in this colony than there are known Psionics on the _Mjolnr_. And possibly one or two other Newtypes not of the crew as well."

The only thing keeping Galaxy Commander Rico's jaw from dropping to the table was the fact that it was still attached to the rest of said Galaxy Commander. GC Michaels simply stared blankly at the Strategic Officer, and Star Admiral Centara looked at her quizzically for a moment, though it did not last long. It was Gerald's maniacal giggling that broke the stunned silence and drew attention to said Century Commander. "What's so funny?" Rico asks of his superior officer after a moment.

"It would appear that yelling my psionic head off at that lunatic Le Creuset did more good than it did harm in revealing the presence of Newtypes in our formation."

"You are saying that we're about to become the camping ground for the world's Newtypes and Psionics because you got pissed off at Creuset?" Michaels asks.

"Very possible," Calamira replies. "That yell he let loose with gave me an instant headache, which means it was loud and quite powerful. Every pilot captured, every ZAFT soldier interrogated in Jachin Due said the same thing: they all heard a really pissed off guy shout something inside their heads, about Creuset would dine in Hell tonight or something to that effect. If normal people heard it at that distance, Newtypes and Psionics on the far side of Terra should easily have heard it."

"Surprise," Wayne grumps. "You just became the recruiting poster for Mendel's very own Newtype corps," he says as a half-joke. Magi did not segregate Newtypes out of normal combat formations, so there would likely be no separate formation or any such folderol, and everyone knew it.

"Right, and would you like me to do a one-man rotating handstand in the corner while reciting the Negaverse national anthem backwards?" Gerald asks very facetiously. He had no intention of being any form of recruiting poster and really wanted to remain out of the command loop to avoid scrutiny. Only problem is, his success in battle had already made himself and his unit famous, defeating his purpose before he started.

"Heading to Hell in a hand basket," Rico says with a bit of a giggle. "Anyways, what do we do about the influx of people with spec talents?"

"We? Nothing. If any of them want positions in the unit, they get in by the usual fashion, but we do keep track of them in case they turn out to be of sufficient caliber to operate any specialized units. No sense letting good talent sit idle, if they are so inclined to use it."

"And our first volunteer may have just walked in the front door," Gerald replies, looking down through the surface of the table at the logical location of the ground-floor entrance.

"See to it, after the meeting, if not dealt with," Wayne replies. "All right, Blue Cosmos report, please."

"Same as yesterday. Two confirmed cells, one possible," Gerald replies immediately. "Cell 1 made legit purchases of M4 assault rifles and Mark 23 pistols, nothing out of the ordinary there. Cell 2 got a shipment from planet-side, four of the Earth Alliance CR-8A1 assault rifles, magazines, and ammunition. Shipment wasn't flagged since it seems to have originated inside Orb. Again, nothing special and nothing illegal. Possible Cell 1 has shown no interest in armaments as of yet, though that may change in the next week if they are playing by the standard BC guide book."

"Observation on all three?"

"Ample," Gerald replies. "We have Enhanced Sensor System remote drops in position to keep track on them, as well as audio and video observation. They fart, I know how well they cooked their meal."

"Reaction times?" Wayne was referring to how quickly personnel could be brought to bear should they move in the open with those otherwise legal armaments.

"Zero or less," Gerald sounded a bit smug about the thought. "I have specialists on standby to deal with them, should they indicate an attack is imminent. And of course Calamira can sense the ramp-up before they try, so..."

Calamira nodded assent to Gerald's point. The whole purpose of the Strategic Psionic was to sense an impending attack, or more specifically the 'mind flare' of increased brain activity of someone about to commit violence. Psychologically, there is no way around the burst of neural activity caused by a person preparing to do harm to others, and usually when someone premeditates the activity (as would be the case here) the ramp up is long and goes higher in total neural activity at peak, usually described as 'psyching oneself up for the attack'. Of course, such activity was a dead giveaway to a Strategic Psionic, thus the value Calamira brought to the team and the reason why her rank could exceed the nominal authority of even a Star Admiral under certain circumstances. In all reality, the mind of the enemy was their own fatal flaw as far as the Magi concerned, and Magi have no qualms about exploiting the weaknesses of the enemy in that respect.

"Outstanding," Wayne replies. "Keep them under wraps, smash them when they try something stupid. I would prefer they be captured, tried, and executed for their grizzly intent, but if you have to flatten them to save lives, that is the cost of protecting lives."

"Aff, sir, it shall be done."

"All right, that is the entertaining part, people," and there were half-hearted groans from the others at the table. "Now the drudgery and routine affairs. First off, as much as I don't want to report this, I must now inform you that the _Mjolnr_ is down to a skeleton crew. If we have to sally, we can do it, but we will lose effectiveness from our high-point in the battle of Jachin Due."

"Can't be helped, boss-man," Rico replies. "Trying to keep that thing staffed to nominal operations load would strip us of supplies faster than we can trade for them. I will admit having the 'Big 'Jol' at my back was a very comforting feeling, but this is cold, hard reality we have to work with here."

"Quick question, sir," Wayne waves the GC of Marines to make his request. "Can the jump core be fixed?"

"Short answer: Soritz Jamestown is trying to figure that out as we speak. No telling how long it will take him to give us a straight answer." While the principles of jump engineering and the process was crystal clear to the Star Admiral, he maintained no illusions. Engineering a jump core was definitely a 'black art' as far as Wayne was concerned, something best left to the professionals. Thus, it was Captain Jamestown looking into the engineering aspects, while Wayne tried to secure supplies to fix the damned thing should it be possible.

"Roger, thanks," Michaels replies.

"Next up, immigration report, please."

"We have two that denationalized and are headed to Orb, one out of protest of our firearms policies, one out of protest of a term of bond sentence for someone who tried stealing from a downtown street vendor. The latter said that 'several hours scrubbing toilets is unfair punishment for a botched robbery' or something to that effect."

Wayne sighs at such a thought. Either said person had not been paying attention at the induction briefing for those people coming in to the colony (everyone had to attend when coming from outside Magi society, it was a requirement), or somehow got a bit of cold feet at the thought of having to actually repay your debt to society for breaking society's laws. _If they can't hack it, best they go elsewhere. Magi society has no sympathy for wishy-washies_, he thinks sardonically.

"And the other one found out she was squeamish around an armed populace," Gerald concludes the analysis. "No shame in that, some people can't get used to the thought of damn near everyone being armed, instead of just the criminals being armed." Despite the phrasing, Gerald's tone held more than a hint of disdain.

"Wait, what?" Wayne asks. "What do you mean 'damn near everyone'? Even the shittiest Magi planets only have 45 percent armed per capita." 'Armed Per Capita' tracked how many persons on a planet actively carried arms of one kind or another during day-to-day affairs, be it a simple combat knife, sword, pistol or revolver all the way up to long arms or assault rifles. Old Magi law required that any person who was qualified to carry (and had passed the mandatory arms carry training courses) could not be restricted from carrying any civilian-legal armament they wanted, and cannot be harassed, discriminated against or prosecuted for carrying. It was an old tradition that went back to the Emperor's hometown and the heady days of the Empire's founding, as a pledge to the people that they would always have the right to defend themselves against aggression. The hell of it was, there had been more than a few cases where terrorists or military forces had attacked a location and found themselves engaged in combat by the civilians they were supposed to be killing. It did not end well for said terrorists or military groups, either, belying the hidden strength of an armed and pissed-off populous.

"First reports are in, of the military personnel in the colony we have a 90 percent carry rate, of the civilians in the colony, we have 75 percent have taken and passed the carry classes, with said 75 percent carrying routinely."

"Refugees," Wayne thinks aloud. "They know, they've seen Blue Cosmos in action, and they ain't going to put up with it in a land that allows them to not put up with it. Firing range utilization?"

"Civilian ranges are overcrowded, hell, the two range owners in the colony require scheduling in advance during peak hours, and recommend it during off hours. Talked with one yesterday, he said if it gets any worse he will have to go to 24-hours-open and full scheduling."

"That may be a decent business venture for our engineering corps," Wayne thinks aloud. "See about some plans for the engineers to set up a range or two, accessible for the civilians if it is not in use by military units. Keep the price reasonable, match it to the other facilities. Also, if we have surplus arms or ammo to sell, offer them at going rate at the facility as well." Another caveat of Magi law: business ventures undertaken by the government may not be funded by tax money (but may be started on a loan from the parent unit which had to be paid back), and profits taken in from the business had to be redacted to the unit's operational funds pool. Strict limits on expansion and buy-outs also existed, but were very rarely challenged by a unit's business venture. In essence, any business run by the Magi had to be run as if it was a normal business, despite the people behind the counter being a couple soldiers assigned to the business from volunteers. And from a general standpoint, most units moved too much to have business ventures, therefore they were rare and almost always outnumbered by equivalent civilian ventures.

"Readily, sir," GC Michaels replies immediately. "That's a lot of people that don't want to die without recourse, if Gerald's numbers are right."

"More is the better, maybe Blue Cosmos will learn their lesson when they try attacking a crowd and the crowd attacks back," Rico replies smugly. "I take it business is next?"

"Neg, we still haven't done immigration yet, only the emigration," Wayne replies.

"What the hell?" Gerald asks, looking out the window at the distance. "Dude, I am not seeing that right. I can't be."

"What?" All eyes turned in the general direction he was looking, but nobody really saw what it was, until— "Way!" Calamira half-squeals. "Looks like the kids are getting in on the act as well. Kinda gives you a warm and fuzzy feeling, doesn't it?"

"What? Okay, what's the joke?" Michaels asks.

"Midtown Vocational," Calamira says, drawing the other three that did not see it in that direction.

"Wait, is that someone's underwear on the flagpole?" Rico asks.

"Jokers Wild," Wayne says, using a pair of binoculars he kept in the room to observe the happenings in the rest of the colony. Part of the courtyard could be seen from the conference room, and it appeared that a group of students were standing there, saluting the shorts on the flagpole. "And that is a simulacrum of the Atlantic Federation flag below the underwear. Looks like the students have something to say about Atlantic Federation policy and rhetoric."

"Oh yes," Gerald replies. "We are the great joke of a humorless Empire, come unto a humorless world, with humorless intent in our purpose. I wonder, who is it that I hear laughing now?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, I hate to ask this, but are we ever going to accomplish something at this meeting?" Wayne asks in a somewhat peeved tone, now that they had confirmed that the shorts were being saluted as they spoke. It would be the great question of the day's meeting.

-x-x-x-

(5 November CE 71, 2200 Hours)

"Damn good op today," Rico says. "If they weren't gaining ground, I'd say these Earth Alliance pukes are their third-round draft picks."

"They gain in one area, lose in two others," Gina replies. "Charlie and Delta cells have been savaging them east and south of our position. They may be gaining ground, but they are paying for it heavily. And every day it goes on, things get uglier in DC," by which she meant they were achieving a political victory even if they were losing the classical military campaign by the numbers.

"God favors the underdogs," Ed opines. "More to the point, this is a classic weakness of large governments that have loose morals and progressive media outlets," Harrelson continues; his insight into the nature of war and its necessities was fast becoming a minor legend among the various rebel groups, as was his tactical and strategic acumen. "A guerrilla force can completely screw up the battle by the numbers and still win the war in the long run. Vietnam in the old history 1970s is a perfect example, the Viet Cong were target practice for the United States in any stand-up force-on-force engagement, but when ambushing they had some advantages. However, what won the war for Vietnam was not the North Vietnamese, if the US had held out longer they would have practically finished off the VC and had everything needed to take out North Vietnam in as little as three years. The problem was the US media, they deliberately colored the war in a bad light, and the people demanded the war end. The people get what they want and South Vietnam was overrun in the end, and America got its defeat as demanded by their press."

"You are saying the same thing is happening here?" Rico asks.

"Oh yes," Ed replies calmly. "Every victory we give the Argentine people is a double-thrust victory, one here in military terms, one in the heartland of the Earth Alliance in the press. Already, we are seeing the Atlantic Federation political support eroding, their senate is talking about ways to cut their losses, and the troops we capture are demoralized even beyond our successes. The military-industrial complex is powerful, but not omnipresent. Even they will fold when it looks like failure is inevitable."

"Can anyone fight a good, long war any more?" Rico asks. "Or is classical warfare down the toilet nowadays?"

"Ask the Magi, they've been around the block a few times," Gina asks in half-disgust.

"Hello in camp!" Someone shouts from the hike trail leading to the nearby town. "May I enter?"

"Mail call, boss, we got a message that a courier would be coming by today while you were out," Michael says.

"Gotcha," Ed replies. "Come on in!" Ed shouts toward the path.

From the shadows of the path came first the front tire of a dirt bike, then the figures of two, a young man and a young lady. The bike was shut off and was being pushed, to prevent making noise near rebels that may otherwise be touchy. "Mail call, greetings from the Uruguay resistance teams," the guy says, picking up a basket that likely contained the typical fare: mail, maybe a package, and fresh home-cooked baked goods of some type or another. "Holy—you're Ed the Ripper, ain't you?" the kid asks.

"Was," Ed replies, having foresworn that name as an Earth Alliance creation now in his past. "Today I am just Edward. Come on, we have hot food and coffee." Room was made for the two around the campfire. "How go things?"

"Oh man, that op you ran today has people down in Buenos practically in the streets cheering. You do know who you shot up, right?"

"I know they were good," Ed replies. "They even got one on me, and knocked two of my Strike Daggers out. They can be fixed easily, but that they got us at all was surprising."

"That was the 47th Autonomous you shot up, two Buster Daggers, two Long Daggers, and a 105 Dagger. Supposedly they were patterned on the Magi's 'star' formation and concepts, but you put paid to them."

"The 47, is it? Weren't they the assholes that burned part of Bahia Bianca to the ground and killed civilians?" Samuel asks.

"Yeah, that was it," the guy says. "Oh, sorry for not introducing myself. I'm Ricardo, this is my girlfriend Annabelle. Anyways, I got mail for you guys from several of your family members, and the ladies in town said the basket is for you."

"Nice," Rico starts passing the letters around to whom each belongs to.

"So, what is new around the nation?" Gina asks.

"Well, we got some good news, and some bad news, which you want first?"

"Start with the bad," Ed replies as he dishes them both out a bowl of stew.

"Bad news is, the Earth Alliance Caribbean fleets are sending down reinforcements to Brazil, for distribution around to 'problem areas' like here."

"That blows," Samuel notes.

"That's not all. Apparently Blue Cosmos is taking an interest down here as well, there has been reports of guerrilla forces attacking the USSA nationalists in Panama, El Salvador, and Nicaragua. I don't have much in the way of details, except that it has been real bloody northwest of Colombia—for both sides."

"Bad and worse, those BC pricks get a toe-hold here, we'll never be rid of them." If Gina could sound any more displeased, how was lost on her team.

"That's the thing, you'd think they were farther south by now, but they haven't passed the Colombian border yet," Ricardo the messenger comments. "Worse, where is Blue Cosmos down here? They should have come out of the woodwork by now."

"They tried," Rico says. "It didn't work out too well for them," and his thumb across the edge of his knife blade indicated what had happened in more appropriate detail than either messenger wanted to know.

"Mail call! Why didn't one of you louts come get me?" Elizabeth asks sharply.

"What's the word, 'Liz?" Samuel asks.

"I'll have your machine going in two days, Rico's in three. Ed's machine is good to go, as is the Raider Full."

"Excellent," Ed replies. "Anyways, what other bad news have you to bring?"

"Well, what complaints Equatorial has about us being overrun have fallen on practically deaf ears. The only other people to have said anything is Mendel, and they not much. There's a catch to that, though, and I've got a whopper to tell you there."

"Oh please, don't spare us the suspense, I have enough blood pressure problems as is," Gina grumps, but does not press the issue harder.

"Gina, cut the guy some slack, it's his story to tell," Rico says. "Anyways, if that's the bad, it could be worse. So, what's good in the world today?"

"Plenty," he replies. "First off, the EA senate is making quite a bit of noise in the past 48 to cut losses down here. It's possible that when negotiations start up for the Peace Treaty at the end of the month, we may become one of the hot topics."

"Hell yes," Ed says. "Orb, ZAFT, Equatorial, and the Magi might be enough to get the Earth Alliance to go away."

"Okay, on the home front, the past two weeks a lot more people are saying good things about the resistance than they were prior to that. The Earth Alliance Ministry of Information, err, make that Ministry of Disinformation, is working overtime to smear you guys, but the message ain't getting across. They talking, nobody's listening to the EA bullshit any more. After the massacre in 'Bianca, they know better than to believe the EA."

"You were right, Ed, they're defeating themselves and we're just egging the process on," Samuel says.

"True, quite true. Any word of how things are looking for the after-we-kick-them-out period?"

"Yeah, the old guys are still around, but they're quiet, speaking out only against EA depredations, and their words are measured. They know they can get it from the EA brass if they push hot buttons, but they are showing a public face so people know there is still a legitimate power to take over when the losers go home."

"We will either be disbanded when that happens, or we will be folded into a new USSA military," Samuel replies. "Either way I don't care, just so long as those EA asshats are not on my home turf any more."

"We will probably be folded in," Ed replies. "We would provide the veteran mobile suit troops and command structure to augment the influx of greenhorns just enlisted."

"Well, can I get a position higher than Warrant rate one this time around?" Rico says.

"No bets," Ed replies. "Anyways, what can you tell us of where they are winning and losing?"

"Easy, Annabelle can tell you, I flunked Geography before an EA 'suit flattened my secondary school."

"Dork," Annabelle elbows Ricardo. "Well, there's a couple odd ones here and there, but for the most part the Earth Alliance is breaking even in Brazil and Uruguay, gaining ground in southern Argentina and in Chile, losing ground up here in northern Argentina, breaking even in Paraguay and Guiana, but from Suriname to Colombia to Peru and down into the middle of Bolivia they are losing big-time. 'Nards here has a good explanation why they are losing, as well."

"Oh, thanks," Ricardo says sarcastically. "I swear, sometimes she acts like she's my wife," he jerks his thumb at her, and receives another elbow for it.

"Wait, I thought you were," Rico says.

"Not yet, only lacking for a church and somewhere to settle down right now," Annabelle replies.

"Anyways, I was in Bolivia a couple weeks ago, at the camp for the 6th Rebel Formation there, and there were a couple of black ops-types in the base from out of country. A little asking, turns out they were some Orb spec forces types."

"That's pretty good news," Ed says. "Orb is a powerhouse for such a small nation, they cut loose and you're dead, plain and simple. Getting them to cut loose, though, takes an act of God and a couple of His brothers or more."

"Anyways, these guys were in with a shipment of some stuff, I think it was salvage they bought off the Magi. More to the point, of the Orb guys, there was one there that looked and sounded like Orb, but didn't quite fit in. I hung around, and caught him swearing up a storm in Japanese. And last I checked, Japanese is almost a dead language, relegated to about a third of old-world Japan. Odd language for a dude from Orb..."

"Unless it wasn't," Samuel says. "Japanese is the main national language of the Magi, over even English and other languages."

"Bingo," Ricardo says. "I hung around the dude for a few, since we were going to night over at the camp, and I heard some interesting stuff from this guy. The guy's a real no bullshitter, and no stranger to jungles since his home world was 80 percent jungle. He said that Mendel doesn't like seeing a nation get pissed on like the Earth Alliance is doing to us, but without formal diplomatic power they can't really speak out on the world stage on our behalf, so they sent in a few advisors and resources to do the talking."

"Whoa," Gina says. "That's something I didn't expect to hear."

"Orb says the same thing," Annabelle comments. "They don't like the way things are going down out here, but they aren't in a position to tell the Earth Alliance where to get off."

"What were they funneling in?" Rico asks.

"Salvaged ZAFT mobile suits, GINN and GuAIZ types, including one heavy beam rifle from a Magi machine as well."

"Holy hell, Houston," Gina says. "Whoever has that machine has some serious firepower on their hands."

"I'd settle for the GuAIZ with standard weapons," Rico grumps. "Forget the rest."

"And that's not the half of it," Ricardo says. "Word is, one of the teams up in the old Peru area somehow 'got their hands on' a Magi Gundam that was 'smuggled in by the Junk Guild'. Honestly, I ain't got no proof of that, no evidence or even hearsay to back it up, but I did hear it once a while back."

"If that's true, that would explain why Peru is beating Earth Alliance ass so badly." Magi MS units were a match for anything ZAFT or the Earth Alliance fielded on a 1-for-1 basis, but the Gundams were something far, far worse. Not only were the machines well in excess of the Earth Alliance best, the pilots were hardened and ruthless soldiers that chopped through whole swaths of EA forces and even warships without hesitation. Some said it was the pilots, some said it was the machines. Only the Magi truly knew.

"They're that powerful?" Ricardo asks. "I know the Magi are some big shit, but I didn't think they kick that much ass."

"They got all of us except Ed, who bought it from the Freedom. They went through the Earth Alliance like a blowtorch, and ZAFT almost as quickly." Gina grumps.

"Yeah, forces don't survive Magi attack, they only get away on the sufferance of the Magi," Samuel replies.

"The only reason why anything Earth Alliance survived the Second of Jachin Due was because their Star Admiral told them to stop, plain and simple," Rico clarifies. "One of their pilots said he received the order to cease fire with tone and sights on our last _Agamemnon_-class ship, we were that close to losing it all."

"Whoa," Ricardo says, quite shocked to learn exactly what kind of soldier and force he had just seen up close and personal. "Anyways, I heard from this guy that a few Magi and more than a few Orb dudes are helping out the cells all up and down the west coast, though how they are getting in beats me. The Earth Alliance has the area all but blockaded. And there's one last thing I caught a whiff of, something about a new weapons system manufactured right here in the USSA and crewed by local boys, but it's a tank that can stick it to the Earth Alliance like hell. Massive thing, bigger than an Alliance Linear Tank by half, uses the same style primary gun but also includes some kind of revolutionary missile weapons for long range and short range. They say with a good crew, one of those tanks can tear apart three Strike Daggers in ten seconds."

"Whoa, that's some heavy metal," Ed notes. "Still, armor only goes so far. Infantry is what holds the ground, any commander worth his paycheck knows that without infantry, armor is dead meat for the other side's infantry."

"And that's why the Magi guys are down here, they're beefing up the training for the rebel's infantry. Supposedly, their Marines are really badass dudes, their primary and main force is Infantry, not all the big guns they used to smash the EA and ZAFT in space. This guy I talked to, he was Infantry, and he knew some clever shit that he was teaching the rebels about captured Earth Alliance gear, like how to disassemble a captured land mine and use its explosives to form home-made shape charges for blowing through armor, or makeshift fragmentation bombs, or satchel charges. He ain't someone I'd want to meet in a dark alley, if you catch my drift," Ricardo says.

"I hear that," Samuel says. "Kinda wish we could get some help like that, half our guys can drive Mobile Suits but we can only get parts here and there, not whole suits."

"Some of the teams up north have machines and no pilots," Annabelle says. "I'll pass the word on that you need more machines, and maybe some support from Orb?"

"The help would be appreciated," Ed replies. "More to the point, though, we need to know when to move up operations from raiding to full-scale combat, we can't keep at this forever or eventually they'll localize us and bring the world down on top of us."

"That's the thing, though, you won't have to keep at it forever," Annabelle replies. "You're winning in the hearts and minds of the Earth Alliance Senate, they want a way out. Keep hammering on them and eventually they will give up."

"I hope you're right," Ed replies. "I hope you're right."

-x-x-x-

(7 November CE 71, 1000 Hours)

(GARM R&D Facility, Mendel Colony)

By the numbers, Star Colonel Wilhelm did not know why most of the MedTech personnel had been assigned to the _Mjolnr_, though he had his dark suspicions about a goodly part of it being engineering on someone's part. By the numbers, one could say that the amount of very skilled and reputable MedTechs, including one of the androids that was a MedTech Specialist by trade, was simply luck of the draw by personnel assignment. However, the fact that a Master Geneticist (himself) had been assigned to a near-derelict _Phalanx_-class ship without so much as a blemish on his record raised the possibility that someone was pulling strings from the shadows. That someone would have had to know in advance that the _Mjolnr_ would be attacked. Barring conspiracy theories, this quandary meant only eight people in Existence would have known, and only three of that rank had any notable influence among the Magi. _Spider webs, spider webs_, Wilhelm thinks behind his trademark cigar and craploads of paperwork. If he was wrong and it was blind chance that he was now stuck in CE Terra, well, 'such is fate' as the old Magi saying goes. If he was right and someone really was engineering things at a higher level than even the Admiralty, there would have to be a damn good reason for it...somewhere. Simply stated, fucking around with the lives of billions is not a gamble to be taken lightly, even by the Master Executors, and everyone in this particular casino knew it well.

Despite his maudlin thinking, Wilhelm still had his job to do, and an appointment to see to shortly. One of the former employees of the facility he had recommissioned, to be specific, had taken an interest in what the Magi were doing with the place. Prior to that, the inspection rounds were required of the system, so he had to see to the necessities first. The Star Admiral had placed a high priority on this facility and specifically the work of Ulen Hibiki, despite its potentially divisive nature, and Wilhelm had his orders to see to it. Reluctantly, the Star Colonel stood up, stabbed out his cigar, and withdrew his service pistol from the desk drawer he normally kept it in. Despite all intel on this guy that was coming in, Wilhelm was not willing to trust him in the slightest. Especially after reading some of his leftover paperwork.

Outside his top-floor office, Wilhelm could not help but grimace at the state of affairs in the central shaft facility. An overt traditionalist, Wilhelm had serious issue with the choice of music echoing through the facility. Japanese pop music, particularly the music of old-history Terra in the 1990s, was a far cry from his normal diet of power metal, or even some of the more symphonic works that were starting to show more prevalence in the unit. _Times change, preferences change, for better or far worse_, Wilhelm could naught but remind himself. The traditionalists in the unit had lost the first Trial of Possession on the _Mjolnr_ in the days prior to the Second Battle of Jachin Due, breaking open the Tradition of Music to bands other than Nightwish. Wilhelm had seen little issue in that, so long as the combination of ass-kicking metal and ass-kicking combat force caused the enemy to lose control of their bowels. The traditionalists had lost the second Trial of Possession after the establishment of the GARM facility, the second loss opening up the standard music rotations wide to pretty much anything as per vote of the unit in question. It just so happened that the GARM unit and staff had voted 45% for J-Pop and J-Rock, with Symphonic Metal coming in at 28% and European Pop at 14%. And all Wilhelm could do was grit his teeth and smile.

Across the catwalks, in the central facility shaft, he walked in on the routine sounds of what he trained in on: a eugenic gestation facility. The work begun by Ulen Hibiki and brought to a tragic end by his murder was now the operating premise of the Magi. Wilhelm would ensure the canisters were used to give life to people once again, even if he had to step over the deceased detractors and counter-Eugenics to see to it. Such were his orders, such would be his duty until relieved.

"Sir!" The assistant genetic researcher on duty says as he comes to attention. Though not military, the assistant always addressed Wilhelm as if he was.

"What is the status, Robert?" Wilhelm asks, looking over one of the rails at the thermoconductive pool surrounding the individual canisters.

"All systems are still reading proper pressure, temperature, oxygen, and nutrient saturation. All systems are nominal."

"Have we tested the backup systems?" Wilhelm asks.

"Aff, sir, all primary, secondary, and tertiary systems are confirmed working. Until an hour ago, we were on the secondary supply loops and pumps. I have a report from facility engineering that the backup fusion reactor systems are confirmed working. It's amazing how much power one of those Omnimech engines will put out."

"A Battlemech or Omnimech is the king of land warfare," Wilhelm replies. "Necessarily, they will require engines capable of putting out extreme amounts of power to power motive and weapon systems. The same engine applied elsewhere can present extreme amounts of power for civilian application, far more than we would need. More to the point, I am thinking about completely isolating the GARM facility from the normal power grid, to prevent a terrorist cutoff to the facility. So, I ask you, what is stopping this facility from going live right now?"

"Effectively, sir, nothing," Robert replies. "All systems are go, no critical failures during the stress-test, so really all we lack is specimens to begin the gestation."

"One other thing," Wilhelm replies.

"Sir?" Robert asks, unsure what was meant.

"We lack the authorization to begin. As it stands, this facility is still just an experiment, proof-of-concept to begin. Tomorrow I will go before the Grand Council and request authorization to begin Trials for Bloodheritages, or should they have another plan, to follow that."

"Ah," Robert replies. "Will it be difficult?"

"Neg," Wilhelm says after a moment's contemplation. "The Star Admiral wants this technology going, and I have little doubt that the representative from ZAFT shall be here for just that purpose as well. Orb may or may not get in on the act, though I do not see the other nations doing so. Latent moral objections, never realizing that the matter of one's birth is irrelevant, the fact that you live is what counts."

"Bah," Robert replies. "Racist fools."

"Indeed, but far be it from us to argue with them short of the necessary results of our work," Wilhelm says calmly. "As is the expected position of the Magi, our victory shall be answer enough to those who would detract or demean from our work."

Robert sighs. "I really wish an honorable nation like the Magi had existed here, long ago. Means I wouldn't have been born, but..."

"No," Wilhelm replies. "The existence of the Magi is itself the accidental product of divine meddling, interference, and power-lust at more than one level. When Gods get involved, things get very messy very quickly. Consider yourself lucky that the present situation is not at the behest of the divinities." _Or, at least I can't confirm that this is not another case of the Gods getting involved_, Wilhelm thinks passively.

"Power leads to chaos?" Robert asks.

"Chaos leads to conflict," both Wilhelm and another voice declares. Wilhelm's head snaps around to the second speaker, a man in a different manner of dress from the typical plebeian wares of Mendel. It only took him a half-second to realize that this was Gilbert Durandal, the guy he was to meet. With him was one uniformed ZAFT guard, with only a pistol as far as Wilhelm could tell, and they were escorted by two Marines.

"And power is a necessity, for there will always be conflict," Durandal finishes the thought adroitly. "Star Colonel Wilhelm, I presume?"

"Aff, I am. You must be Gilbert Durandal, the up-and-coming power player of ZAFT." A nod was sufficient answer. "You speak as if you have understood history," he prompts with an old Magi telltale, a way of testing to see if the person he was speaking to was a bureaucrat or a true statesman.

"It does not take much imagination to understand that humanity has lived for thousands of years constantly at war," Durandal says as the two officers walk out of the central shaft and onto the catwalks surrounding it. "Despite the best wishes of certain parties that have antagonized all of us in recent weeks, an end to war is at best a fleeting dream."

"I give her credit for the crux of her desires and how hard she is pursuing them, but an ideal world—her ideal world, specifically—is patently impossible. No true soldier wants to fight; warfare is a necessity of our career, not a desire, yet so long as opposing viewpoints exist, there will be no respite from the battlefields."

"Armament reductions will not change that simple fact, and soon enough we shall be again at war, just under different pretext and circumstance," Durandal completes the thought.

Wilhelm nods. "I daresay you did not come here to discuss such maudlin musings, correct?"

"A pleasure, actually, to discuss with someone who has seen past their desires to the reality we live in," Gilbert replies. "Still, my purpose here is of much better terms than the grim future."

_This guy is slick_, Wilhelm thinks behind a passive mien. "Then you have come to the right place for better purpose," Wilhelm replies. "Welcome back, Professor Durandal, to the research lab you barely escaped alive those years ago."

"When I first heard that the Magi had long ago mastered the work that Doctor Hibiki had begun here, I was taken aback. I found myself even more shocked to understand that not only had the Magi mastered his techniques, but have done consistently better over the centuries that your program has been alive. Genetic manipulations capable of producing whatever modification pattern you seek, easily modifying size, strength, inherent intelligence, reaction speeds, characteristics of physical appearance, metabolic rates, even traits we never believed possible to effect or affect, such as mean biologic requirements for oxygen, water, nutrients, ability to process and utilize heavy metals in the body, selective modifications of immunity and disease prevention, the list goes on. It is truly amazing what enough application of sciences can do," Gilbert replies.

_He's reading more than a bit too much into the effectiveness of the Eugenics Program_, Wilhelm thinks but does not say. "The science is only the barest fraction of what we do here, Professor," Wilhelm says, waving him inside to the central spire. "The science may dictate what, where, when and how, but the who, the why, and the 'what next' are the critical factors of the Eugenics Program. You have no doubt heard the Blue Cosmos propaganda that the Eugenics program is simply a breeding system for military super-soldiers?"

"I have heard this, but I believe very little coming from such unreliable sources. What is your stance?"

"This, all this, this is not military," Wilhelm confirms his theory. "For every modification group I put into gestation, I track those persons thoroughly from a research standpoint, and all my findings are considered open information for the use and reuse of other research groups. In the end, this is nothing more than a huge research project and public service. Were you informed that I am a eugenic?"

"No, I was not aware of this," Durandal replies, though not entirely shocked at the revelation.

"Lahiri Bloodheritage, a captured genetic legacy of the Star Adder Clan. By the laws of our society, I may not use my bloodheritage as my last name, for I have not earned that right by capturing a Bloodname. All things considered, even in my best years I could not have done so, for my heart never was one for the battlefield. I qualify on my old war steed three times a year, and I do the small arms qualifications twice a year, but that is the measure of it. For all intents and purposes, my rank is ceremonial," Wilhelm admits.

"You are less a soldier, more a scientist, then?"

"Aff. My days are spent in the lab, preparing gestations, supervising the canisters, and tracking the results of my prior birthings. I had two decades of backlogged tracking groups, three groups a year for twenty-three years, prior to my reassignment to the _Mjolnr_. I get to start anew, here, provided the Star Admiral will authorize it. My subordinate researchers and technicians are not military, and have no intention of taking on the Magi uniform and call to arms. Those beings that come out of these Canisters," and Wilhelm waves to the ten canisters in the room; "some of them may join the military, some may not. That is their choice, when they become of age to legally make that decision and sign their name to the paperwork. Between the day they are born and the day they may sign up, they are considered civilian children and are raised just the same."

"So any claim that they are predestined to become soldiers is blatantly false," the ZAFT guard with Durandal asks for clarification.

"Aff, quite so. Already I have staff lining up to adopt the newborns that have themselves not even been conceived, much less begun their growth in the artificial wombs. The staff is not anti-military, though most of them will learn more of civilian pursuits and follow the same. Those that are not adopted shall join one of the creche groups, of which the Task Force has multiple. The Creche is specifically engineered to be military-neutral, not for, not against, so again there is no predisposition to being soldiers. Hell, the common Elemental modifications are highly sought after in such industries as steelworking, construction, logistics, and Elemental-Fighter or Elemental-Scientist hybrids are much respected in medical and agriculture work, just as a few examples among many."

"So, the combinations of modifications are multi-purpose as well?" Durandal was quite intrigued by the concept of combination modifications, but the premise of multi-purpose modifications would be an answer that the PLANTs could truly benefit from.

"Well, our intent is to reduce or eliminate problems in the process, though we never intend to create the 'ultimate being' or such nonsense. There is no such thing as perfection in humanity, even if we were to give them every possible genetic advantage we could. Doctor Hibiki's 'Ultimate Coordinator' project produced an interesting case, but nothing more than the Magi have already achieved, and given his notes, to get that far he was hedging territory we know to be dangerous, though his works are not such in-depth to have seen what he almost accomplished. I am not at liberty to discuss further on his project due to certain matters surrounding release of information to affected parties, but at such a time as I am authorized to release that data you will get it in accordance with existing research transfer protocols."

What Wilhelm had mentioned was not something that Durandal had even twigged to prior, but an interesting area to dig. "So, you are presenting the thought that what modifications we make are open to everyone?" Durandal requests for clarification.

"That is truly a question to be left to the ZAFT Grand Council, in the end," Wilhelm and Durandal had walked out onto the catwalks and crossed to the outer offices, this time to enter the former office of Dr. Hibiki, which now was occupied by the Star Colonel. Both the guard and the Professor were shown seats, while Wilhelm took his desk seat. "In the end, the stated goal of the Magi Eugenics Program is primarily to bring life to beings that otherwise would never have existed, with a distant secondary purpose to defend the human race from such afflictions as disease and crippling defect. In the Magi Empire, AIDS, HIV, Herpes, and Hepatitis are nonexistent because the Magi populace has a genetic resistance to them, and what cases are found are now dealt with in other medical fashion. Almost all variants of the Flu are deceased, with the occasional spike here and there among natural-born enclaves, those who refuse to mingle with or associate with Eugenics or Eugenically-descended persons. Most biological weapons are widely ineffective against Magi populations, with the exception of super-hardened and extremely potent weaponized agents. Some low-order chemical weapons have little to no effect on Magi, due to resistance to the chemical changes caused by those agents. Instances of birth defects are extremely rare, and almost all can now be attributed to other environmental factors, not the natural or Eugenic genetic process."

"Oh man, you're beating God and the evolutionary process out by an order of magnitude," the ZAFT bodyguard says.

Wilhelm shakes his head vehemently. "There is no evolution past what we are now. Nether Coordinators nor Eugenics are the next step of humanity, we are simply a modification to help protect humanity from our environment. There is no evolutionary component, for we are not making modifications to basic structures outside the possible minimums and maximums of human variance."

"Then what should we do?" the ZAFT guard asks before Professor Durandal could do so. "If we aren't becoming better, what's the point?"

"Define 'better', comrade," Wilhelm replies adroitly. "Or, more appropriately, define your purpose. Start there: what shall be the purpose of your Eugenics Program?"

Durandal smiles, since the gig was effectively up. "You have my position cornered, a veritable checkmate. Our purpose is the same as the Magi purpose: to bring life to those who would otherwise never exist. Our secondary is the same as yours, though we have tertiary positions of broadening the spectrum of Coordinator influence and the genetic variability of the PLANT populations."

It was Wilhelm's turn to smile, since Durandal had let fly with more intel than he had assumed by saying such. "Remember, Professor, Chess is a game of absolution. An absolute grid defines the battlefield, with absolutely-defined forces in a sequential move-for-move pattern of play between two sides. Real life makes no such distinction, where battlefields are nebulous, force correlations change on a minute-to-minute basis, actions happen in an inconvenient operational flow with parties known and unknown participating and spectating in the conflict. The game of Chess is often used as analogy for things that are infinitely more complex, variable, and randomly-paced than the simple game of wits."

Chairman Durandal could not help but chuckle mirthlessly at being (arguably) outmaneuvered by the Star Colonel. "Then you and I are agreed that the true game should never be played, lest the toll it take on all persons be unbearable. Instead, we should work together on this and other projects, that we can focus away from the games that have haunted the past of humanity."

"Magi purpose is life, Professor Durandal, thus on that account we are agreed. Every day, billions are born among the Star Empires by Eugenic programs, and we all have a responsibility to make sure their lives are the best we can build for them. Modifications and their results are shared openly, accurately, and expediently between various Eugenic institutions among the Magi and with the two other practicing Star Empires in a massive collective shared research pool, that the actions of the few will benefit the most people as quickly as possible. Would you join that fraternity?"

"I will argue strongly for it with the Supreme Council. There will be some hesitation, but as you have already demonstrated ZAFT has done nothing that the Magi have not already done better, though with the sanctity of time and repetition."

"Then I shall go before the Star Admiral and deliver my opinion on your request. Given the present trend between ZAFT and the upper level, I see little to no trouble for this level of cooperation."

"You have the thanks of the PLANTs and the Supreme Council, Star Colonel. I will impose on your time no further, if you are preparing to begin your first gestation you assuredly have much to ready for."

"Thank you," the Star Colonel stood as Professor Durandal and his guard did. The Marine opened the door for the two, though Wilhelm stopped Gilbert from exiting at the last moment. "Professor, one thing, if I may?"

"Yes?" Gilbert replies.

Wilhelm slides open a drawer in his desk, and produces a well-worn book that Durandal immediately recognized. Wilhelm presents it to him as a return over the desk. "I return this to you, Professor Durandal, as proof that the game should never be played, for the toll it shall take on all persons will be unbearable. We should focus on games other than those that have haunted humanity in the past."

Durandal received the book, and simply nodded solemnly in response. _Checkmate_, Gilbert Durandal thinks crassly.

-x-x-x-

(10 November CE 71, 1600 Hours)

(Alliance Heavens Base)

"DAMNIT, DAMNIT, DAMNIT!" The Colonel of Ground Operations Intelligence shouts. "These fucking things are impossible! They're damned **tanks**, for Christ's sake!"

"Enough, Colonel Reese, sit down and shut up," Admiral Sutherland orders sharply.

"Sir, how the hell can you be so calm about this? This—this—this is direct interference in our internal process!"

"I said shut the hell up, Colonel, I'm not going to tell you again," William Sutherland orders very dangerously. Despite his obvious agitation, the Colonel did sit down and silenced himself. "Now, regardless of appearance, I am not going to accuse the Magi of doing this. Definitely not when we are not in a position to do a damned thing about such accusations."

"Sir, this is a clear demonstration of their hardware! Nobody else even knows how to create self-loading missile weapons—"

"And the damned USSA guerillas may have stolen the designs from the Magi or reverse-engineered some salvage they got from the Junk Guild. Hell, a shipment of the launchers may have fallen off the back of a Mendel supply shuttle for all we fucking know. Unless you have eyes-on evidence the Magi are the one pissing in the pool, I don't want to hear it, you got it?"

"Aye, Admiral," the Intel weenie replies in a clipped fashion.

"Furthermore, this is not Magi on the dint that we have confirmed these are diesel-engine units running off bio-fuel ethanol mixtures. Under Magi law, the use of any petrochemical-burning engine is extremely restricted in civilian matters and completely illegal for military purposes. If this was a Magi unit, it would have a fusion reactor for an engine. Do your damned homework on the enemy before accusing them of shit that is illegal under their own regulations."

"They may not be playing by their own regulations, Admiral," the Colonel replies.

"Again, do your damned homework, Colonel. Magi society stipulates that disobeying regulations carries a severe punishment for the involved officers, including public dishonoring and stripping of command and rank. If this was a special operation transfer of equipment, that means that the entire command structure would be hamburger when they reestablish link to their home. They are bound by their honor, and they would not dishonor themselves and their unit like that. I am reasonably confident this is a USSA contraption, or at worst Orb meddling plus USSA manpower. Either way, without hard evidence I cannot accuse anyone of doing it, despite what we know or presume to know." _This is so bullshit, but I can't have this Blue Cosmos blowhard take it up his chain of command or we're fucked_, Sutherland thinks behind a passive face while gauging the Colonel's reaction. He knew he had to defuse the situation and do it fast, because if the EA tried preempting the Magi right now, the Earth Alliance was grade A fucked hardcore. The Magi would go through what remained of the Earth Alliance Navy and Lunar Bases like a chainsaw, and then turn their guns on the planet below them to make sure the Earth Alliance stopped playing rough.

Any commander worth his paycheck knew the Magi could not take and hold land in any quantity with their present force structure, but for the Magi, turning real estate on a planet into an inhospitable wasteland was a simple technical exercise. Given enough time, the _Mjolnr_ could literally erase all living beings in Earth Alliance territory off the face of the planet, and do so with impunity. Magi doctrine on suborbital bombardment was very clear and very ruthless on that score; Admiral Sutherland did not want the Magi to vindicate that doctrine, regardless of who had helped build 'these fucking tanks.'

"Aye, Admiral," the Colonel finally settled down.

"Regardless of who is helping build them, we need to stop them from being built to begin with. That means we need to isolate the factories that are producing the machines and conduct airstrikes or special operations to render disabled. I want suggestions, people."

"What about _Ophanim_?"

"No, hell no, and while you're at it, forget the name. _Ophanim_, _Cherubim_, and _Seraphim_ are not on the table whatsoever, they are at Ptolemaeus and that is where they will stay, clear?"

"Sir! A mobile assault with one _Archangel_-class ship and a full compliment of MS could turn any number of these tanks into smoking scrap piles!" the Colonel replies heatedly.

Sutherland covers his face with both hands and sighs. "God damn it, boy, how hard is it for you to read between the fucking lines? Those ships are the ONLY weakness the Magi have! I cannot pull them away from Ptolemaeus, they are the only thing rightfully capable of threatening the Magi warship superiority. Not to mention _Ophanim_ is the only assault ship the Earth Alliance has active at this time, until her sister ships are completed or the _Girty Lue_ is completed and passes its shakedown some time next year or early '73. I am not pissing away the linchpin of our Lunar base defenses. We use conventional ground forces or special forces, rule the navy out of the equation for now."

"Yes, sir," the Ground Ops Intel Colonel was less than pleased, but he knew that he was treading thin ice right now. Admiral Sutherland had seen the Magi in action, and his golden girl Natarle Badgiruel had come back from captivity with a fresh take on the enemy and their capabilities. Scoring points by bringing him down would be practically impossible, the Earth Alliance considered the two of them to be irreplaceable assets given their survival against a foe better known for killing everything in their path.

"Sir, if I may?"

"Go ahead, General," Admiral Sutherland replies to the otherwise silent Ground Ops commander.

"With the new forces coming in from GulfOps, I would like to change tactics around. This constant trying small hits here and there ain't working for shit, the guerillas can see through it and outgun us in an ambush. I have drawn up a plan to maximize striking power for one good strike against the rebel front, by pulling back and playing defense until the reinforcements come in, then reverse polarity and slam them on four fronts at once. This is my operational concept."

The map table lights up and shows a projection of South America. "Let's go over this by the numbers, please," William Sutherland orders.

"All right, this is present forces and distribution." the necessary symbols appear on the map. "My intention is to give them land now, trading space for time, by doing this," and the screen animates the Earth Alliance forces pulling back into four defensive positions. It also had the advantage of consolidating commands that were otherwise hamburgered all over the place and a pain in the ass to supply. "This will also make it easier to supply units and to guard our supply convoys, since there will be a lot more units per convoy."

"Roger that," William replies. "Proceed."

"Now, all estimates show that the reinforcements can be in place by 22 November, which we understand that to be too fast for the rebels to begin a concentrated assault. Once we have our forces in position and ready, it is my intention to begin a four-point spearhead out from Brazil and along these four paths." One arrow went down through Argentina, one went through Peru to the west shore, one went up through Colombia to Panama, and the fourth went into Guyana by way of the southeastern corner of Venezuela. "In this fashion, we can break the bulk of the rebel armor in one stroke, and then the rest is a classic counterinsurgency program."

"Interesting premise. What is the expected assaulting times from the defensive entrenchments out to objective locations?" Admiral Sutherland asks.

"All objective paths will take 7 days, consisting of two blitzkrieg-style pushes, a pause of a day, another push, a pause, and a final push. Our forces will be running a bit ragged by the end of the last push, but hopefully the inherent speed of the assault will catch the bastards with their pants down."

"Logistics?" William asks rightly. The one big screaming problem with any kind of blitzkrieg was logistics and support forces.

"Already accounted for. Here is the logistical and support OrBat (4)," and a folder was passed over the map table to the Admiral.

"Outstanding, General. The only problem I have is the time table. Negotiations start 20 November, your assault starts 24 November. It is very likely that any assault actions you take will reflect on those negotiations. Is there any way you can move this up?"

"No, sir, the reinforcements cannot be in position before 21 November at the absolute earliest. And if I jump the gun and use what I have now, it's a suicide charge right into their crosshairs. We'll lose for damn sure if I try that."

"Damn," Sutherland says. "Can't be helped, I guess. All right, General, I am going to make one thing crystal clear right now. Keep the dogs of war on a very short leash when you execute this. If we are accused of humanitarian violations during an assault campaign in a territory that we're already being hammered on, we are fucked. Do it and do it right. No massacres, no on-the-spot executions, no bombing suspected rebel structures unless you see them firing from it. Or the rest of the world will come down on us like a fucking anvil. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir, I read five by five," the General replies. "Colonel Rease, that means you and your 'friends' as well. If any BC insurgents act out of line, I will order the EA regulars to kill them immediately on the spot."

"Sir, I don't have complete control over them," the Colonel protests weakly.

"And I don't have complete control over the Magi, so keep that little fact—and the amount of planet-crunching Warships they have—in mind," Admiral Sutherland replies in kind. The grimaces around the table were answer enough that everyone understood exactly what he meant. "Keep it surgically clean and stainless, people. Any questions?" There were none. "Colonel Rease, please remain."

After the other officers left, most of whom were simply observing Sutherland in action, Rease stands up. "Permission to speak freely, Admiral?"

"Granted, Colonel."

"Sir, I know you faced off against the Magi and survived, but they are not the most serious threat we have at this time. I believe that withholding the _Ophanim_ is an error and I will report it up through my chains of command."

"If you believe what you just said, Colonel, I will accept your immediate and unconditional resignation right now."

"Sir, I respectfully request an explanation," the Colonel replies calmly.

"You have fought ZAFT, won some, lost some. You have fought these guerillas, won some, lost some. You fought Orb and won. The Magi could have done all of the above for breakfast and come back with bowl in hand, asking 'please sir, I'd like some more'. It took the Magi two minutes of run and gun action to disable the _Dominion_. It took one of their pilots three minutes of brutal close-quarters combat to render inoperable Gundams Justice and Freedom, the same two Gundams that killed our forces at Onogoro by the dozen and pissed on the remains. In an hour of head-on combat, the Magi space navy's most fucked-up incompetent joke force practically annihilated the entire ZAFT military and damn near wiped out the Earth Alliance space forces. The Magi themselves say the _Mjolnr_ is a piece of shit falling-apart beeter Warship that has only survived this long because it's a goddamned monument to a war we can't imagine. Now, if their royal fuckup team is this powerful, what the hell do you think their varsity can do to us, mister?"

"Err, ram our heads though the side of a Linear Tank, shove a 'nade up our butts, pull the pin, and wait for the fireworks?" the Colonel replies facetiously.

"Now you're learning, boy-o. I, personally, do not believe the Star Admiral is being entirely truthful about his inability to contact his homeland or jump with his ship. That being said, I do not want to give him cause to go home, get up some of his buddies, and come back for round two with a helluva lot more of Magi trademarked whoopass for us. Some of the intel Blue Cosmos has picked up from just chitchat around the colony has me scared shitless, up nights trying to find ways to counter even the lowest ten percent of their supposed capabilities. If just one more fleet like theirs shows up, with even depleted forces like they already have, you can write off the Earth Alliance in the entirety. If two fleets show up, well, the Magi have a rather direct term for it: Trial of Annihilation."

The Colonel cringed, since he knew exactly what was being referred to. A Trial of Annihilation meant that whoever was subject to said Trial would be killed off, end to end, 100 percent casualties. And Blue Cosmos definitely fit the bill for a party to be annihilated under their rulebook. "Okay, assuming you are right, and they are really worse than ZAFT and the Coordinators, how do we win against them?"

"Time is our ally. They need time to supposedly repair the ship. We draw their attention in ten different directions all at once, force them to expend time and resources on other things. We do what we can to limit the amount of people they take in, but we do it on the sly. We try to limit the amount of resources they can acquire. And mostly, we try to fight a shadow war against them to constantly keep the pressure on them. If we fight smart, we can fight them indefinitely without drawing them into a running gun action for which we are ill-suited to match them."

"What about stealing their designs?"

"No go, Natarle has already reported that a lot of their materials and processes cannot be stolen, this planetary system does not have the necessary resources to build them. Have you ever heard of Mithiril metal?"

"Yeah, in a fucking fantasy novel about twenty years ago," the Colonel replies sharply.

"Dig out that novel and bone up on it. Their infantry armor is a tri-weave composite and one of the metals is Mithiril." Admiral Sutherland picks up the pictures of the day's hot topic, the aerial recon photos of the new USSA tank. "I am going to take these pictures with me to the negotiation. I doubt I will get a straight answer from the Star Admiral or the Century Commander, but the fact that we know may get them to back off. Objections?"

"No, sir."

"Dismissed, Colonel."

-x-x-x-

(15 November CE 71, 1100 Hours)

(Commercial Block 2, Mendel Colony)

"All right, gentlemen, listen up," the Star Captain over the operation requests. "This is Nicholas, the original reporter of this problem. At risk to himself, he has been providing on-side intel as to the problem we are going to be dealing with. We have been receiving a steady flow of information since the initial report, given his job allows him to work from home he can keep an eye on the tangos with ease. Nicholas, please give us a run-down on what you have seen."

"Thank you, sir," Nicholas replies. "I used to live in Detroit down on planet, and not in a good neighborhood. I've seen drug-houses before, and 226 North 3-Baker is one. I got a spotting scope that I use to watch the happenings, and I handed over my notes to the MP guys on who was trading what for what. In the house, and around it, I saw four regulars, two small guys, one mid-Easterner, and a large white guy. There were some stringers, none of them more than twice a week, and the only one I've seen this past week was Heidi, a part-time streetwalker I'm told you guys have already busted once or twice."

"Yeah, I got her trying to sell tricks last week," one of the Armored Marines notes. "Three days of cleaning up parks and streets didn't teach her a lesson, looks like."

"Neg, not likely," the Star Captain replies. "Continue, please," he gestures to Nicholas.

"As to what goes out of there, I've seen white powders, small packages, pot bags, and something in liquid form, I don't know what that last was. Coming in, I've seen kilo bricks of pot and coke, and I've seen a lot of guns in and out of there. Lot of guns."

"We have eyes-on confirmation by recon assets of this happening," the Star Captain says. "We also busted a guy with Meth downtown, he reports this location as the seller. We have enough cause to crack the place, so we are justified in the coming operation." He meant that the tribunal would find that there was enough intelligence pointing to illegal activity at the location to warrant the operation, should the question even be raised.

"Any support weapons?"

"You mean like missiles or stuff?" There were nods as answer. "I did see something that looked like a large shoulder-carried assembly, an energy weapon I think, but I couldn't tell you more than that."

"All right, thank you, sir. I'll take it from here," the Star Captain says. "Attention to orders, people. Per orders from Galaxy Commander Michaels, there will be no illegal drug trade countenanced in Mendel. Therefore, our mission is to assault this structure, capture all persons involved in the trafficking of narcotics, capture or destroy all contraband, and lastly to send a loud and clear message that this shit will not be tolerated where Magi walk. Our method of assault is going to be a two-prong attack with perimeter, an assault from APC from the front and an overland assault from cover to the rear of the building. The perimeter will be provided by unarmored Marines stationed on the crossroads surrounding this block. Now, our scout teams have noted the presence of sentries around the block, to which command has provided special assets which will take down those tangos prior to commencement of perimeter form-up. Once perimeter is established, the two assault teams will enter the area and close on the structure, both teams are Armored Marine units to minimize risk on assaulting the building."

"Barricaded tangos, sir?" one of the other Armored Marines asks.

"If the door is barricaded in the front, the APC will ram the door to render breach. In the rear, the assault team is authorized to use a hand grenade or breaching charge to make entry. Once entry is possible, teams will flashbang and proceed to enter and clear. Keep in mind this is a police action, people, so the use of flashbangs and capture tactics is preferable to combat force and tactics, but the ground operation is in your judgment. If you have eyes on support weapon threats, render harmless by expedient means. If all they have is assault rifles and pistols, close and subdue. You know the routine as well as I do."

"Aff, Star Captain," more than half the personnel reply immediately.

"Perimeter Marines are to watch for possible fleeing suspects from the area and are to capture by expedient means. Again, I remind you all that this is a police action, these scumdogs are not combatants unless they fire upon us. Do not fire upon them unless they are presenting an active threat to personnel or civilians in the area. Now, once the building is secured, the perimeter will close up on the building and sweep the area for contraband. Suspects detained will be evacuated by the APC and taken to the Marine Barracks for holding until they can be processed into the legal system. Contraband will be removed from the locale and processed as evidence against these persons. The structure will be thoroughly searched by Enhanced Sensor systems for traps and hidden storage locations, and a crime lab team will process the locale for any other evidence of crimes. During and following of sweep after the assault is completed, we will conduct a standard Review of Captured Articles. Anything else is discretionary at that time. Questions?"

"Neg, sir!" one of the Perimeter Marine Point Commanders shouts. Nobody else had any other questions.

"Very well. Operation Sudden Silence begins at 1120 hours. Move out to staging locations, people." The Star Captain does not move out with the rest of the group, since the command post was where he would be. "Once again, you have our thanks, Nicholas. Even observing people like these at length is a hazard."

"They gave me the evil eye a few times, I'll admit I didn't like the looks and points I got, but I purchased a surplus M4 off an engine mechanic a while back." He chuckles heartily. "I used to be Detroit PD, years back, and we all had to qualify on assault rifles. I come here to get away from that mad-house, and freaking everyone's got a gun. I ain't felt safer in my life, especially since you guys don't crawl up people's asses for defending yourself."

"It is only the honorable course we can give," the Star Captain replies honestly. "We don't require a rectal exam just because you shot a threat. Do you wish to observe the operation as a commander sees it?"

"Hell yes, sir!"

"Follow me," and the Star Captain walks around the blackboard they had illustrated the block with to the controls area. "Controllers, please initiate all holoprojectors and slave control to my Enhanced Imaging Interface."

"Aff, sir," the Controller Lead replies. "Coming active now, sir."

"Initiating Enhanced Imaging system," the Star Colonel says. The tattoos on his face, a depiction of patterned circles around his eyes and forehead, glow bright red as the EI implants activate and link to the nearby controller consoles. Given the external amplifier attached to his belt and wired to the connection point in the back of his head, he had hours of power available without adding an external battery to the loop.

"Whoa, you're controlling that with your mind?" Nicholas asks as the projected view changes around several times, then settles on a projection that allowed them to see the personnel approaching their staging locations.

"More or less," the Star Colonel replies. "This is how I control my Marine Armor with greater precision and speed, but I am the minority among the Marines. Battlemech and Mobile Suit pilots prefer this system over standard interfaces. Here, these are the sentries," and three inset windows appear in the ten meter square projection field, showing magnified views of three men standing on the corners farthest away from the drug house. "Sensor sweeps show that each one of them is armed with a pistol and carries a radio, not very subtle of this organization."

"Sierra Sierra, this is Sierra-Oscar, reporting all forces in position and sights are hot on three tango sentries."

"All forces, this is Sierra Command, execute go-code Alpha."

Even in the insets, the observers could see the immediate effect of the command. All three of the sentries took a light-penetrating dart to the neck, and before any of them could even wonder what went wrong they had collapsed to the ground. "Tranquilizers?"

"Aff," the Commander replies. "Execute go-code Bravo," he orders immediately thereafter. Within moments the Marines all jumped out of their staging locations and began the overland march to their next assigned locations, which for most of them was to form up a perimeter. The two assault teams, one APC and one by foot, moved to their next jump-off location to prepare to storm the building. The whole exercise took ninety seconds from the time the tranquilizers had been fired to the point at which the next operation section was ready.

"Sir, all forces report ready op," the Controller Lead informs him.

"Here, this is the lead viewpoints for the assault teams," and two more inset windows appear. The main area closed up on the house and switched to a wireframe tactical view. "Execute go-code Charlie."

The two assault teams began their march in, a carefully coordinated movement that meant both hit the structure at the same moment, even given the APC's distance of travel of a block and three quarters. The synchronicity of the operation was mind-blowing to Nicholas, as the rear team closed up and stopped at the door, while the team in the front debauched from the APC and stacked on the door. The APC rammed the structure where the door was, then quickly reversed throttle while the team in the rear blew the door open with a breaching charge. Flashbang grenades were thrown inside by two troopers from each element, and Nicholas knew that whoever was in the building asleep would not be after they went off. Anyone awake would be stunned and have the shit literally scared out of them by the operations, only to be made worse by the Armored Marines storming the single-floor house.

The entry team in the front swept into the living room and immediately came across two stunned suspects, one with bleeding ears, and rendered them captured easily with zip-tie restraints. The rear team entered the laundry room and proceeded to flashbang the next room inside, the kitchen. On entry, there was one previously unidentified lady at the kitchen table, screaming her head off and holding her ears, though Nicholas had to wonder why she was just sitting there with sweatpants and socks on, no shirt or bra. The Marines rendered her captured easily, restraining her just the same as the two in the front with zip-tie restraints and leaving her on the floor with one guard.

The forward team moved right, assured that the rear team would move left toward the utility room, study, and garage. They checked and cleared the master bath and the master bedroom, the secondary bedroom, and found the large guy of the known suspects being serviced by the prostitute that was known to string for the drug dealers. Despite their compromising position, both were still brought compliant and secured to face their just fate. The rear team cleared the utility room, the garage, and entered the study to see the last suspect, the younger of the shorter guys, fleeing out the rear window with a third lady. The lady tripped up in the grass behind the house, though her partner did not even stop or glance back, just kept running.

"All but one, and the last is running right into the spider's web," the Star Captain says, pulling the main view back to track the runner. He did indeed run right into a wall of forces, three guys with sub-machine guns that ordered him compliant. He tried diverting, changing course away from the ambush he walked into, but the Eugenic Marine that he practically ran headfirst into would have none of that. Before he could twist away, the Marine pulled him forward and dropped him to the ground with a powerful knee strike to the solar plexus, then slammed the stunned foe into the pavement. The other two in that ambush preempted the move order and closed up on the lady that tried fleeing, finding her still on the ground behind the house.

"Command, Alpha seven reporting I have secured suspect support weapon. Weapon classified as Earth Alliance copy of United States design Foxtrot-India-Michael-9-2 Stinger surface-to-air missile."

"Alpha Seven, Command, remain at location with secured asset."

"Command, Alpha Lead reporting structure is secured."

"All forces, Command, execute go-code Delta. I will be reporting to location in five minutes." His EI facial tattoos stop glowing. "Controllers, back to you. I am headed out; this one is done."

"Hot damn, sir," Nicholas says. "We had a good crew in Narco in Detroit, but your men are...they're like the damned SWAT jocks. You went through all of them like a fucking chainsaw, and not one shot fired."

"Hyperwar," the Star Captain says in response. "Hit the bastards so hard and so fast they never know what killed them until Satan has to tell them what went wrong." Nicholas could not help but laugh at the phrasing and concept. "Part of the Full Spectrum Warfare codicil, the guidelines we use when the enemy doesn't deserve the honor of Zellbrigen. The only break we give them is to calibrate crosshairs and redirect missile salvos."

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

Bloody hell. It has literally taken me this long to get this finished up due to outside factors, it is sad. I had this chapter pretty much written as of the end of October, but since then it has been nothing but one delay after the next keeping me from doing final edit. I still lack a job, but I now lack even free time or so it appears. Sad, sad times.

You can start to see the beginnings of disconnects in all sides of the equation here, with the possible exception of ZAFT. Something is going on among the Magi that not everyone is in the operations loop, the Earth Alliance is at a veritable five-way schism between the Senate, the military, and Blue Cosmos, Orb is running in three directions at once, the list goes on. It would appear that the dice are stating that more chaos per capita is being generated by the presence of the Magi than had been initially estimated, even by me. Pretty sad when the author doesn't quite see the net effect until after his third read-through of the chapter, ne?

Regardless, with the full peace treaty negotiations coming up, Lacus is going to get a second crack at steering Existence on her ideal path, but with far less (CENSORED for seven seconds) than the last time, and the various parties will have to sit down and decide how to call the first war 'done' in preparation for the next one. Of course, seeing as Orb has intel personnel in Mendel and Blue Cosmos has already established three operations cells in the colony, there is much propensity for bloodshed in coming chapters.

Also, I think it bears mentioning that there is a somewhat controversial technical aspect in the chapter above, given a new addition to the USSA rebel arsenal. I respectfully request you defer tearing me a new bumhole until after the next chapter, when things will be forced into far more clarity by events both in the hands of interested parties and out of those hands. Expect much violence on the matter at that time.

As it stands, the next chapter of AAA is my immediate focus, but due to circumstances that change literally by the minute, I cannot give you an ETA on it.

NEXT UP: The rebellion in the USSA heats up to a point of meltdown as the negotiations begin in space to officially end the war. The forge of alliance and enmity can itself be found in places unexpected...

* * *

Review Replies: Many reviews, and much less angst in this last chapter. I think I have quelled the dice into playing nice, so...

**FraserMage**: Such ideas, such ideas, what am I going to do with them?

**Deathzealot**: I severely apologize for the lack of moment on Archangel's Amazing Adventures, but even in unemployment I have been extremely busy. It is my next objective, I swear to it. As to the varying viewpoints, here are a few more for you :)

**Necroblade**: Only two things outstanding on this one: first, the Seiran/Sahaku thing will take quite a while to come to a head, but when it does, expect a whole lot of tumult, possibly even a rather significant schism in the upper levels of Orb.

As to why Gerald does not use a Nu Gundam himself, well, let us simply say that it does not match his mission profile. Magi doctrine for the employment of Nu Gundam is basically the same as a Mobile Armor, for denial of territory to enemies and for destruction of high-value targets in space. Gerald's missions typically do not require that set of qualifications unless he is involved in fleet actions, and in such cases he has the Neue Ziel-U that he operates in.

**Rabe Adler**: Going by the points:

1): A pleasure.

2): I think the dice are now at least somewhat cooperative, if not compliant. And with the prospect of Lacus incoming, making sure it is done right is high on my list of priorities.

Second section:

1): Natarle learned a lot when she was in with the Magi prisoners, but in the end she still believes that the Earth Alliance is in the right. She may decide otherwise shortly enough, however...

2): I am still to decide what ZAFT will do with Azraiel. The Magi answer would have been simple: give him a choice on how he wanted to be executed, but the Star Admiral rightfully decided that such a decision belonged to those he wronged.

3): I hope the events of this chapter smoke that prediction of yours. The Magi are pre-warned of his plan by his leftover paperwork, and if he starts enacting that playbook the Magi are going to know what's going down and how to go about stopping it. All things considered, however, I don't see Durandal simply sitting on his thumbs due to this setback. He will find a creative new plan to unload on the world, one that either co-opts the magi or cripples them.

4): Not so much of that in this chapter, if you discount the very rambling staff meeting and the Dropship that should not have been cleared to fly, but there will be more of that to come in chapters to come. Everyday life with the Magi can be just as hazardous as a 'low intensity conflict'.

5): You know, in the end it may be that all the Seirans have left is their self-preservation skills, if the Sahaku undercut their position in the government. Maybe not. Only the dice know how shall this political family feud shall end, therefore I cannot comment on these things to come.

6): The Gundam universe is remarkably nebulous as to what amounts of people are Newtypes and/or have other skills (The Frost Brothers of Gundam X, for example). Among the Star Empires, people with those talents are revered, so for the Magi dealing with simple Psionics is a no-brainer. The only question is, will the other groups see the skills and the inherent uses for what they are, or will racism cloud their judgment until the point of no return?

7): Not necessarily. Even if ZAFT can counter EA ships with Positron Deflectors, the EA can still use those ships against the Magi, and Warships are a veritable necessity for transport of military forces regardless of what other functions they provide. The Magi might have something to say about positron deflection systems, however...

8): I hope this chapter illustrates not all things are going to be rosy in the coming effort to liberate South America.

9): To which I must ask, is that a good thing or a bad one? Or somewhere in the gray area?

**One Village Idiot**: Certainly not! Athrun is not dead yet! No, he is just very injury prone as per the dice, though I should note that Yzak has been getting off a bit easy of late, I may need to look into this...

There may be some performance, software and hardware upgrades for the said Gundams, but getting them working is going to take months. As of the end of this chapter, the GP02-HW-LC is only 77 percent combat capable.

I am surprised people didn't twig to that realization before this chapter, amigo. Star Admiral Centara wasn't exactly subtle about wanting the Dominion taken down, and even Lacus realized it.

There are only an absolute minimum of limits to what the dice can change, though as each change occurs I have to recompensate as necessary. More than a few good ideas I have had have been nuked by the dice. Trust me on that if nothing else. On the other hand, I have new guidelines on things the dice are and are not allowed to modify, and core personae are out of the question. Therefore, Lacus going off the handle is not going to happen, just as one example, but the results of her actions are subject to the dice.

**Knightowl 4183**: Well, Knightowl, the mark of an author is not necessarily shoehorning everything into his notions of what should and should not be, it is being flexible enough to do what must be done with what you have been given. In my case, the dice give me the course, and it is my duty to put words to the cold and hard numbers. This is how I write, and this is how I will be writing my first novel that I shall attempt to have published. You can expect it will not be 'pretty' in the classic sense of the word.

As to your comment on limiting the dice, keep in mind that I did not plan to kill Dearka or Redmond, just as two examples of things going horridly wrong. I did not plan to have the Archangel 60 percent mulched by that Clan Wolf fleet. That is the glory and the depredation of the dice all in one: where they go, I shall follow, even if it did kill off one of my favorite Gundam SEED characters. Shit happens and all that.

I think I covered the rest in reply. Keep it coming, comrade!

**Knives91**: Erm, hard to say. There is no Magi formation specifically trained and tasked to do hostage rescue, though throughout the millennia the Magi have employed all manner of creative ways to get people out of harm's way, ranging from iterations of wizardry to the aforementioned Ghosts to other classified methods. It is all up to the creativity of the commander on site and the assets available to be called on. You can see some hint of police skills in the standard formations in this chapter, though :)

**Etienne Of The West Wind**: As stated above, as of right now the dice cannot manipulate core personae, so she will be less inflexible in the chapters to come. However, with the coming summit, she may get a more receptive welcome to some of her thoughts than would be in the four-party talks of chapters past.

In this case, I don't see that. Yes, Blue Cosmos has to see the Magi as a severe threat, as would ZAFT, but keep in mind that Blue Cosmos considers them all a severe threat to the purity of the world. For them to ally with ZAFT would basically be an overt admission of ZAFT's rights, and they will not countenance that. ZAFT, however, is playing a different game with the Magi, and things are about to get interesting fast for everyone involved.

Though I am obligated to consider GSD canon, even I must admit that what Fukuda (or his wife) did to Cagalli was borderline criminal. You can rest assured that no such thing is going to happen here, though as you pointed out there will be a bit of strife between Cagalli and Athrun over these things. As to telepaths and Newtypes, well, the only places Blue Cosmos cannot readily operate is ZAFT, where there will show some of those personnel, and Mendel, which under Magi law a person literally cannot be discriminated against, and Mendel has a fairly open immigration policy, where ZAFT is extremely restrictive.

The Magi are going to get a hellish case of hearburn from the Sutherland-Badgiruel operation team, of that I assure you.

Patrick Zala is still up in the air at this time, awaiting the outcome of the peace treaty. Ezalia, however, is going to show up next chapter... As to the matter of Ezalia remaining with him, keep in mind that there is a breakpoint from the nominal events of SEED here: Patrick never even had a chance to order the second shot, much less the third. Ezalia knew the location of the second shot, and does not hold it against him, but she was never told the third shot, nor did he try it.

No, that quote is not a spoiler, Athrun is not on the chopping block at this time, or at least is not at any more hazard than usual. I was referring to how damage-prone he is. Plot armor usually assumes that either someone just can't be touched significantly (GSD Kira), or just can't be killed no matter how often he gets close to death. Athrun so far has been lucky, same as Yzak, luck may run out sooner or later. Only the dice know.

**Smiles**: Wow...that's just...wow. I didn't know my Jokers Wild series was getting around like that. Thanks, amigo, and I want to hear your thoughts! And/or the thoughts of your friends, if they are willing. The more, the merrier!

**General MG**: Lacus got a raw deal from the dice, and I got ripped for it. Should not happen again.

My stance on political correctness is already stated, but Lacus does not suffer from PC poisoning.

Well, the GSD line is Flight of the Jokers Wild, which will be rewritten as well. Also, the two side stories of Flight will be rewritten in due course, with Dilemma of Flay Allster coming first since it theoretically starts in this timeline. Much of the directors' cut is still to come, and then the era beyond GS/GSD shall be no less bloody than this era. Of that you can rest assured.

Lacus and Shinn are still up in the air, as of this writing.

I have not done much with Zeta Gundam, have I? I may need to correct this. Thanks for the suggestion.

**Thank you one and all for the reviews!** They are much needed fuel to keep the flames going when everything else in life seems to be pissing gallons on this inferno. Here's to much more whoopass in chapters to come!

* * *

The Gripe Sheet: Any gripes as listed have been dealt with.

* * *

Footnotes:

(1): **S**peed **O**f **S**ound. A Dropship can slow itself to zero drop rate in as little as five kilometers of airspace (for Spheroid Dropships), meaning that it can transition the sound barrier at pretty much any altitude it wants to. Good helmsmen do not come in hot on the landing zone unless combat procedures dictate it, and never will around cities due to the damage a massive Dropship can cause with its sonic boom.

(2): **A**uxiliary **P**ower **U**nits, small generators used to power the onboard systems on a plane or Dropship while it is parked. Typically using an APU is much more efficient than running the ship's main power plants unless the ship is going to be leaving in a hurry.

(3): **HarJel** is a special compound first derived by the Clans. When refined from the base materials, HarJel is a very viscous liquid, but when an electric current of a certain voltage and amperage is applied, hardens into a material not unlike reinforced superdense and hardened plastics. In common use, HarJel is used on ships and Infantry Armor to seal breaches in the armor and prevent the contents from being spaced.

(4): **Or**der of **Bat**tle, the organization of a force boiled down into individual formations.


	15. Murphy's Laws Run Rampant

(Jokers Wild, Set 1, Chapter 15: Murphy's Laws Run Rampant)

(16 November CE 71, 1100 Hours)  
(Commercial Block 4, Mendel Colony)

Wayne had to stop inside the door to the new delicatessen that had popped up down the street from the Administration building, given the strange sound the door signal made when he opened it. "Morning, Officer," the proprietor says. "Some'n up?"

"Yeah, what was that sound?"

"What?" the proprietor sounded a bit confused by the oddball question.

"Your door alarm, what sound was that?" Wayne asks a little more directly as he moved forward to the cold-cut cases.

"What? You mean you've never heard an owl before?" the proprietor asks in response.

"That?" Wayne shrugs. "Nope, never heard one before," he says before taking position at the back end of the short line.

"No shit, man? C'mon, they common on Earth, how could you miss hearing them? I had a family of White Owls living in my barn once."

"Well, the total amount of my life spent on Earth, any instance of it, is only one day and six hours," Wayne says. "Just long enough to bed in once, then go before the Admiralty Review and receive my posting to the _Mjolnr_, then hop a transport for the ship. Other than that, closest I've ever been to Earth is 145 light-years, not counting landing here."

"No way...that is wildly unreal," his apprentice says. "How...oh yeah, Magi don't necessarily live on Earth or colonies around Earth, right? Duh," he corrects himself.

"Born on Luthien, Old Draconis territory," Wayne confirms. "Landing here is the closest to Terra I've ever operated, same goes for about four-fifths of the old crew." The line shifted forward as the forward customer took up her sandwich and was out of the store a moment thereafter.

"Hey, you know when we're gonna stick it to the EA punks?" the owner asks.

"Nope, ain't heard anything about it. You?" Wayne asks in response.

"Those pricks ran me out of the country 'cause I said the war sucked balls and was pointless. I like it here, but it probably sucks ass for the people down below," he says while slicing up the sandwich for the next customer.

"A little bit of street justice, I take it?" Wayne asks.

"Screw justice, I want vengeance," he replies, then sighs. "Eh, you guys ain't miracle workers, though. Sorry I asked."

"All the miracle workers were assigned to other ships," Wayne notes sourly. All things considered, he still had to get word back to the Empire that something evil this way lurks, and being marooned wherever the hell he was (inter-dimensionally speaking) without a working jump core rather crippled any hopes of getting the word out. A proper Strategic Mage would have solved that problem readily, but such was not in the cards the ship had been dealt. "Yours is not an uncommon story, nor an unwarranted request. For all intents and purposes, at least half of the Earth Alliance Member States are guilty of war crimes and civilian atrocities. Only problem is, nobody has the real net power to stop them, and only a select few have the political will to try."

"I hear ya, sorry sir." It was the old story as far as Wayne was concerned, despite the fact that the amount of months he had been in the star system could be counted on one hand. ZAFT would be spending the next few years rebuilding, putting them out of the game for the time being. Orb had the net power to immolate significant amounts of Earth Alliance forces at any given time, but lacked the necessary resources to hold ground or the political will to venture outside their archipelago. The Equatorial Union technically lacked the military power to hold their own lands, much less venture outside them, which put them off the list. The Kingdom of Scandanavia held a (mildly) respectable military but was crippled by political indecisiveness (their acquiescence to Earth Alliance demands was answer enough that the politicians of said country could be cadged into almost anything given the right preconditions). For what it was worth, the word coming out of the USSA would make Clan Smoke Jaguar feel wholly inadequate in the 'annihilate your enemies wholesale' category but right now the USSA was technically subservient to the Atlantic Federation, therefore they also could not do anything to sort the EA out.

That left only Mendel, the colony-nation growing by explosive percentages, but which had only the military that the _Mjolnr_ brought along, and which lacked the proper forces to hold territory. From a 'political' standpoint, there stood no shortage of people that wanted Blue Cosmos asses on pikes, but without the proper military force to do anything about it, Wayne was not going to commit himself or his forces to a war he could not properly execute. The Multimage Protectorate of Mendel could theoretically deny space and a huge swath of land on the planet below to the Earth Alliance, but without the forces necessary to hold that territory denied to the enemy, it would be a perpetual war that could only end in failure for the Magi. No forces, no dice, no war, as far as the command staff was concerned.

Given the system shock delivered to the EA at the Second of Jachin Due, however, all nations were breathing a bit of a sigh of relief. Due to the massive losses and the rapid crushing defeat suffered by the Earth Alliance Navy, they would not be doing much of anything any time soon. It counted as the one positive point in the enemy actions for the time being, but even that was temporary. All it would take is a moment's realization that Mendel's forces could only go so far at this time, and then the Earth Alliance could theoretically overwhelm the Mendel garrison by the numbers. Thankfully, the enemy command structure had thus far not realized the grave limitations the Mendel (Magi) forces suffered at the hands of the Admiralty Review, and as such were not willing to play their luck. On the other hand, the Earth Alliance natively held the most cards in the industrial sectors and would be the fastest to rebuild at least the technical side of their forces, even if that came at the cost of piss-poor training standards.

"You guys are not going home any time soon, right?" a middle-age salaryman asks from one of the wall tables.

"Hell no, ship's hosed for jump travel. Last I heard, three years is the absolute earliest it can be functional, provided everything goes in our favor. And I mean everything, as in Blue Cosmos stays the hell away, we get the necessary resources and manpower, and nothing else breaks on the old beeter."

"What'll it be, sir?" the proprietor asks.

"Ham, lettuce, cucumbers and provolone on wheat, if you will," Wayne replies. "For here, that is," Wayne says before he began wrapping it up 'to go'.

"Here ya go. That'll be two-thirds, sir, after a military discount." Wayne inserted his codex into the credit terminal, punched in his six-digit PIN, and typed in an extra 0.15 C-bills, giving the guy a tip for the service. The proprietor made a weird face after seeing the tip total, though said nothing except thanking the officer properly.

Wayne took a seat on the outside wall, reading through a comp-tablet with a load of paperwork for the day. Most of it was position papers on the upcoming negotiations, the rest included readiness reports for the various subunits attached to the fleet. He grunted when he came across the report for the 89th Tactical Operations Ground (formation), the only true dedicated ground forces attached to the fleet. According to the report, the formation was standing at 56 percent readiness at the time it was filed, due to two whole clusters of the Battlemechs being in C-Check (1) at the time and a smattering of other units undergoing lesser maintenance and overhaul routines. Expectation for 95 percent readiness was 23 days hence, barring no unforeseen problems (or a combat deploy). Wayne considered it strange that over two Clusters of units would need heavy maintenance at the same time, but he had also learned early in his career not to second-guess the technician's judgment. If they said it needed to be done, Wayne figured they had the right of it.

It was about the time that he was going over the seventh position paper (this one relating to the availability of asteroid mining and expected negotiations on disbursement of resources) that something unknown caused him to look up and around. It was a good fortune that he spared a glance out the plate-glass storefront windows, as he got a good glimpse of a couple of teen-aged punks getting ready to enter the store with bandanas on their faces and pistols in hand. He looked back to his note-tablet before they would have noticed him observing them, while his right hand went down his side to his belt and a small device on it called a 'crash button'. With the button tripped, a general alarm was raised on the C3I network, displaying the requesting individual (Star Admiral Centara) and his location in the colony (Commercial Block 4, 8th Street, Building 4). It also activated an audio receiver on the crash button device, allowing parties tuned to the alert to hear what was going on in the vicinity.

"This is a raid! Nobody move!" the first punk says. "You, old man, gimme any hard cash or metals you may have!" It was not uncommon for merchants or proprietors to accept payment in precious metals or gemstones, given that the value of such items was significant to the Mendel administration for shoring up the power of the C-bill and for trade. In fact, the transaction before Wayne had been paid with a pearl earring that had resulted in the customer being given 48 C-bills in change (and probably also resulted in a net profit of thirty C-bills for the proprietor).

"I have the alarm, boss, nearest backup is sixty seconds out," Wayne could only barely hear from the crash button speaker.

"What was that? Who said that?" regardless of the question, the 'lead' bandit was looking at Wayne. "You! Did you radio for help?"

"No, no radio, just a general alarm," Wayne replies, holding the crash button module up to see. The device itself was only slightly larger than a Zippo lighter, with a covered button access that was flipped open and the button within was flashing red twice a second. "There should be a Star of Marines here in about forty seconds or so. Might as well put your pistols down, grab a sandwich, and wait."

"DAMNIT! I TOLD YOU!" the other bandit shouts. "They don't fuck around in this colony! This was stupid!"

"I don't fuck around, either!" rather than pointing his pistol at the proprietor, he began twisting to point it at Wayne. Operating on pure reaction trained over decades of drilling, Wayne bolted back through the chair he was sitting in, his right hand going down for the leg holster his service automatic was held in. Even with the practice, though, Wayne knew he was beat, the Mark 23 his erstwhile foe held was on target before Wayne had broke the secure snap for his pistol. His reaction to the foe's advantage was textbook, he continued stepping backwards and out of his line of aim as the old service pistol cleared the holster. Wayne presented the pistol (2), though before he could even push out and begin sighting in the circumstances had changed again. The cook's assistant had cleared over the low deli counter and jump-tackled the assailant from behind, shoving both down to the ground.

Wayne watched in horror as the kid—he had to be no older than 14 at the outside, likely was 13 in all reality—slammed the punk into the ground. The pistol, still in the bandit's outstretched hand and with a finger on the trigger, rotated toward Wayne and discharged when it struck the tile floor, though the bullet passed between his legs and slammed into the wall tile behind him at a sharp angle. The round retained enough energy that it reflected off the cement behind the tile and blew back through the tile fragments just leaving the wall. On this second pass Wayne was not so lucky, as the round struck him in the back of the right thigh with more than enough energy to penetrate three centimeters, deformed and all. There was no helping his immediate reaction to the hit.

"SHIT!" Wayne screeched in pain as he collapsed down and right, his leg unable to support his weight with a bullet lodged in it. Unlike the punk, however, Wayne did not have his finger on the trigger when he went down, and his gun bounced off the tile floor without a discharge—a good thing, as the angle of impact would have put a bullet into the side of the head of a four-year-old across the room. Wayne centered his pistol on the downed enemy, though held his fire since the cook's assistant had a hold on the shooter's hair and was banging his head against the floor several times a second. Realizing that one was incapacitated, Wayne retasked and centered his weapon on the standing punk, who was so dumbfounded by what happened that he was simply staring at his comrade while the latter's brains were being scrambled on the tile floor. "DROP IT!" Wayne shouted, though in the aftermath he would not remember having shouted anything.

The punk looked to Wayne, then back to his friend, then back to Wayne, then began twisting to do something—Wayne was not sure whether he was trying to flee or center on him. Running on a combination of raw adrenaline, extreme stress, and decades of training, Wayne did what he felt he had to do—he dropped a one-handed shot from the floor, lest the enemy try shooting himself or the assistant first. It was chance that saved the punk's life, however, as Wayne's adrenaline bested his training and he jerked the trigger badly. The first shot went off-center, punching through the kid's left shoulder, the second shot went farther left and punched through his left bicep. The screeches of the people in the room only got louder, though by now just about everyone was on the floor with lead flying.

Contrary to the movies, being shot by a .45 ACP round is a hellish impact in addition to the obvious trauma caused by the large and heavy round, and most people cannot retain their footing from one shot, much less two. In this case, the punk hit the ground spinning and wailing after Wayne put the two rounds into him. The proprietor, one of two persons still standing after the first shot, moved around the counter and kicked the pistol out of the punk's hand before anything else could happen. Wayne took a moment to realize that the bandits were neutralized, though when he did realize he safed and holstered his pistol.

By pure chance the crash button had landed on the floor practically in front of where he fell, and he only had to scoot a half-meter to where it was to reach it. "Star Admiral! Are you all right?" the Operator on the other end of the radio circuit shouts in the hope that she was being heard by anyone. Wayne had heard it faintly over the ringing in his ears from the gunshots, though his response was delayed as he levered himself to sitting against the wall. He knew standing was out of the question, and he was not going to try.

"Centara here, shots fired, need MedTechs to my location for two GSW and one severe concussion," he says into the device's small speaker grille, then lowers it. "Ease up, kid, that punk is done for," Wayne told the assistant. When his head stopped moving and slumped to the floor, Wayne could tell it looked more like raw hamburger than a human face, belying the kid's physical strength. "Oh man, this is a new one, never been shot before."

"And?" The salaryman asks while pulling his business suit coat off. Before Wayne could protest, he was wrapping it around the wound as a tourniquet.

"Agh, fuck!" Wayne slams the wall twice in pain as the salaryman used a cheap steel butter knife to tension the tourniquet. He gasps for air before speaking: "If you're asking how it feels, comrade, avoid it. It hurts just as bad as any rumor you can imagine about it with a fifty percent gratuity for good measure. Avoid it if possible."

"Well, compress this while I see to the other one," Wayne does as ordered, putting pressure on the wound to force it down into the sports coat-turned-tourniquet.

Seconds later, the Marines pushed through the door to find absolute bedlam in a delicatessen. It would take an hour to sort the mess out, and another three hours to process the scene for criminal purposes. In the end Wayne did get some consolation out of the trip by finishing up his sandwich while the MedTech did initial response on his wound in prep for transfer to a MASH (3) that had set up in the road outside for the casualties. It would be the story of the day throughout Mendel, and in two days would be the story de rigeur in Orb and across Terra, but Wayne was back to work nine hours after being shot. His lament: "No rest for the wicked, the wearied, or the wounded."

-x-x-x-

(16 November CE 71, 1100 Hours)  
(Rebel Encampment Alpha, Argentina)

"Aye, there be the rub in one sentence," the Marine notes. "No Strategic Mage, no way home until we fix our ship," the Marine tells the assembled guerillas.

Much as had been explained by the mail courier in the days past, spotting the 'odd man out' among the spec forces advisors from Orb had been a simple task for Ed Harrelson. After that, well, there had not been much in the way of hard feelings from the former Earth Alliance pilots. After Boaz, after the Peacemaker force, after the crater in the side of the _Mjolnr_ caused by a deliberate nuke strike on the PLANTs, nobody around the circle questioned the Magi's actions in that battle. Rico had said it best in the evening prior: "_If you guys got the balls to step in front of a live nuke, I ain't got the balls to question you_."

"Circumstance kills," Ed grumbles. His circumstance had been the Freedom, though he had some consolation in being the only known Natural non-Magi pilot to have faced off against the Freedom and lasted more than 30 seconds. "Yours seems to be your command section, ours is the Earth Alliance. Question is, how long before you can fix it?"

"People are holding out hope," the Marine says, while demonstrating how to make a homemade cratering charge from captured Earth Alliance antitank missile warheads. The process was dead simple, and finding the missiles was not a problem given the amount of missile trucks in the typical EA convoy. "I be not holding out hope that the _Mjolnr_ gets fixed. When accidents like what happened to us happens to other ships, you generally don't find the ship and it generally does not come back. All due respect to the Star Admiral, but he's probably barking up a dead tree. He's not a dumbass, though, unlike the bulk of the Centara bloodheritage. He'll probably hedge bets in the next couple of weeks, maybe offer to help Orb or ZAFT build a Jumpship in return for the manpower to build a Jumpship capable of getting us home."

"Okay, so is this how it's supposed to go?" Samuel asks the Marine, levering up his contraption for inspection.

"Close enough for anti-government work," the Marine replies. He had to admit that this unit possessed a nearly unbeaten track record in MS combat, and a similar track record in ambush battles, but outside those circumstances was a wildly different story. "Wonder what's keeping Sergeant Kimura this morning;" he was referring to the lead adviser from Orb, the lady to which he technically answered out here in the field.

"She was bent over a radio set, trying to decipher what was coming through the static a while ago." Rico shrugs, still trying to reform the explosives he was working with into a passable cratering charge. "Anyways, don't you guys know some way to get radio past the N-Jammers?"

"Yeah, crank up the wattage until you burn through the interference," the Marine replies. "Or, simpler solution that won't cook your brain, get rid of the N-Jammers."

"Better dust off that solution you have for burning through the N-Jammers, Marine," Sergeant Kimura says directly. "The coded message I just got was an order to contact your command section." The message was handed over to the Marine, who read it through twice to make sure he read it right.

"Huh, wonder what is up," the Marine grumps. "Can you take over for me while I dust off and assemble my old rig?"

"Yeah," the Sergeant takes over the Marine's spot. Ed, already having completed his cratering charge lesson, decided to indulge a bit of curiosity and followed the Marine over to his single gear box.

"Mind if I join you?" Ed asks.

"Sure, I could use a hand," the Marine replies.

"You know, you're the first person that hasn't called me 'Ed the Ripper' after they found out my name," Ed says as he becomes the unexpected bearer of what looked like a battery module.

The Marine chuckles mirthlessly. "I could sense you did not want to hear it," the Marine replies as he set up a simple tripod and attached a black dome to the top of it. "Besides, there is a rather nasty connotation among the Magi for the term 'Ripper', and calling someone that is usually grounds for a Trial of Grievance."

"What is this thing, exactly?"

"Laser Relay Communications System. Used by Recon Teams and Special Operations Teams to communicate with orbiting assets on the sly. In this case, they got a satellite set up for us up there somewhere, not hard to hide it with all the debris in orbit." Ed's held battery pack had been switched out for a radio module during the explanation. "Gods willing, the Earth Alliance will never know it is up there, and for damn sure they can't listen in because it is just a laser to and from the satellite."

"Nice, only problem is you guys said you would be cleaning up the debris eventually."

"Oh," the Marine croaks. "Never thought of that," he says. "Hope Top has thought that one through, though it won't be a problem for several years." The radio module had been pulled from Ed's grasp and then connected to the battery and transmission antenna.

Rather abruptly, there was no more physical work to be done in the setup. "That it?" Ed asks, realizing the whole setup took four objects and thirty seconds.

"Yeah, system be live," the Marine says, then attaches the speakers and video panel contained in the lid of the box to the radio module. "Negotiating with satellite, this be where I step in," he removed his codex and attached it to the radio module, then typed something into the keypad. "Bingo, I'm in." With that done, he connected a headset to the radio, allowing him to speak into the connection line. "Command, Foxtrot twelve reporting on-line, authenticate Whiskey-Seven-Niner-Echo-Six."

"Foxtrot Twelve, good copy on authentication, you are cleared on this channel. Stand by for priority briefing from Strategic assets," the signal was cross-decked to a different channel, which also included a display of a map of South America.

"Hey, twelve is on-line, how's it going Fritz?"

"Holy shit," the Marine replies to the lady who had spoke up. Unbeknownst to the Marine, most activity in the camp had stopped to listen in on the briefing, which was coming out the speakers. The code group for 'classified briefing' had not been issued, so it was assumed that the various Rebels would be listening and watching just the same. "Sally, when did they let you loose?"

"Thank you, sir, and greetings from Peru while I'm at it," she replies sharply. "You got any clue why the sudden contact request?"

"Hell no, I'm waitin' for it just the same as you," the Marine (Fritz) replies.

"The buggers next door are acting up," another guy notes on the channel. "Command probably knows what's going down and wants to get the word out. Also a good chance for the various rebel groups to talk to each other without leaving home base."

"I hear that," Fritz pulls out a conference microphone and attaches it to the radio box, allowing the rebels in camp to speak up if they so chose to.

"Sixteen is in," a fairly serious guy says.

"That is all the teams, then," a lady's voice declares. "I am Strategic Officer Calamira Weste, and the subject of today's briefing is new intelligence on Earth Alliance operations in the South American theater."

"The infamous Strategic Psionic of Mendel?" Rico asks nobody in particular.

"I would say my reputation precedes me, pilot, but in this case I am not the originator of this intelligence; you can thank Orb for the detail work here. Now, listen well, what I am about to detail is the Earth Alliance intention to wipe your cause off the face of the planet." Rico could only groan at the revelation in question. Not only had Calamira singled out the speaker, she had even managed to learn enough about him in a matter of a few moments to understand that he was a MS pilot.

The grimaces were present, but nobody said anything. "Standing by, milady," Foxtrot One replied after a moment.

"As of right now, the Earth Alliance forces are pulling back into four locations, a primary and three secondary staging encampments. The primary encampment is here," and the main EA garrison in Brazil was highlighted, "and the secondary encampments are temporary staging bases north and south of the main Garrison. As is widely known, these bases will be reinforced with assets freed up from the Earth Alliance GulfOps command, and as far as we can tell, the reinforcements amount to three short divisions of Earth Alliance ground units and Mobile Suits, and at least a wing of aero assets."

"Oh great, one is never enough, two is entirely too many," someone else grumps on the line.

"What is their expected reinforcement date?" Ed asks before the briefing got out of hand.

"The reinforcing units should be in place no later than 24 November, 1200 hours. Their internal estimates are for midnight on 22 November, though that part of the transport plan was filed by a political hack and there is no way they can bend the laws of time to move it up that fast."

_8 Days off_, Ed thinks, staring hard into the map. He had tuned out the remainder of the briefing, since he knew what was coming. The four bases would launch weighted alpha-strike attacks outward, in a rendition of blitzkrieg not seen in a long time. Rommel would have been done proud by the EA operations plan, since the operation basically consisted of the effort necessary to take France repeated thrice over across quadruple the land area that said German general had needed to cross. When the matter was calculated down, Ed figured he would have done the same thing were he the EA general in question.

"This is not good," one of the Peruvian cell commanders notes after the detailing of the attack plan had been covered. "We can't absorb this kind of attack."

"Then we do not absorb the attack," Ed replies.

"We won't surrender! No way in Hell, amigo!" a cell commander from Bolivia replies sharply.

"You are planning something, are you not, Ed Harrelson?" Calamira Weste asks plainly.

"A defensive battle is too much of a gamble, especially in this case," Ed says. "World War Two, the battle of Kursk was almost a Nazi blowout, had the Soviets not had months to prepare. We cannot possibly hope to prepare appropriate defenses in eight days; Zhukov had over eight months and still ended up on the ragged edge for a few days there."

"What do you suggest, Ed The Ripper?" a Colombian asks.

Ed blanched, but did not outright rebuke the speaker. "Some say the best defense is a good offense. I don't totally buy that theory, and from what I read about the Magi, they don't buy that theory either."

"An enemy is more likely to make fatal errors on the offensive than he is on the defensive," Calamira confirms the Magi's position on offensive actions. "However, what you say here is correct: the big flaw **is** assuming a defensive posture here, the rebellion does not have enough forces to absorb a weighted assault, much less a full-court press. That leaves only offensive options."

"Correct," Ed replies, thinking fast in the short pause thereafter. "The timing is close, but we may have an option to break the back of the Earth Alliance garrison here before they can begin the assault outward."

"A counter-blitzkrieg?" the Bolivian commander asks.

"The proper term is 'preemptive strike,' but that is what it amounts to. The Earth Alliance is effectively retreating back to bases right now, every one of them. If they concentrate their forces, that means we can concentrate our forces on them. Calamira is right, we don't have enough force to absorb their attack; if we focus all of our force on two bases, we have more than enough to wipe out half of the Earth Alliance garrison in one stroke. If we move to staging locations and strike in six days, we can literally catch the Earth Alliance forces with their pants down."

"Six days?" a gruff voice asks. "We won't be able to get the Southern Cross unit into place in time for that."

That confused Ed for a moment. "What is the Southern Cross unit?"

"Southern Cross is the name of the main battle tanks being built and deployed by the Colombian resistance. We have a reinforced Battalion of them, almost an ACR in size, and they are more than the EA has been able to handle. Between us and the guys next door in Peru, there is no EA presence in this area."

"Good," Ed replies immediately, knowing the reputation of the unit had to match their capabilities at the least. "I don't want you involved in the initial attack. What I want the Southern Cross Regiment to do is to stage northwest of the main EA garrison, and wait for the second attack phase to chime in. Think you can be about 150 miles northwest of that base in eight days time?"

The line was silent for a moment. "Yeah, I'll have to bust ass to get out there, and it'll cost me pretty much all of my reserve ethanol, but I think I can do it."

"Brazil has fuel in caches all over the country. Feel free to raid a few," Ed replies, having inspected a lot of them before the USSA was invaded by the EA. Of course, what worked for one country did not particularly help the rest of the world, but most of those reserve locations dated back to the bad old days, when Brazil was an independent country and not part of a super-collective state. The Brazilian arm of the USSA military had seen to those caches being stocked and maintained, and most had survived the EA takeover. "All right, people, I think we have a golden opportunity here. We can attack the northernmost and southernmost of the Earth Alliance bases before they can reinforce, then we can hit the reinforcements for all four bases before they can get in place, then we hit the last two bases hard and fast. Who is in?"

-x-x-x-

(16 November CE 71, 2000 Hours)  
(Februarius Eight PLANT, ZAFT Territories)

"My trip...was interesting," Durandal replied to the Chairwoman's question. "I learned much about the Eugenics program in three days, and what the inherent problems with the initial systems we were designing happened to be."

"What you managed to determine...did it match your initial estimates?" Eileen asked.

"It exceeded all estimates, some by an order of magnitude," Durandal replied cautiously. "However, the system as they use it has two significant flaws."

"Oh? Something they have been doing for over an eon, flawed? Do tell," Eileen requested, rather shocked that the Magi were screwing up somewhere and had been for so long.

"Well, these are not huge or crippling structural flaws, they are more of an application problem than a structural one," Durandal half-backtracked smoothly. "First, the Eugenic Scientists are mostly concerned with what is institutionally called 'the enhanced average'. In most applications they perform only a modicum of enhancements or alterations, not particularly seeking to push the boundaries of genetic sciences. There are some corporate Eugenic outfits in their Empire that are truly pushing the frontiers, but Wilhelm was the head researcher over a primarily Elemental and Mechwarrior program, stable and advanced but not cutting edge."

"So you are saying they have deliberately hobbled their own research?"

"Within limits, yes," Durandal answered finally. "However, this comes with a caveat: when you review the Magi's standard testing records covering Eugenic protocols listed as two tiers below Wilhelm's average operations, the scores and expectations of those creche groups match our most recent Coordinator programs in all particulars and soundly beat them on certain key areas: intelligence, cognition, strength, dexterity, disease immunities, and a few other areas such as physical structuring that we have only begun to broach. Strictly speaking, even if they have hobbled themselves, they are for all intents and purposes ahead of us in the genetic research and modification departments."

"Time and repetition, I believe was your phrasing in the report," Eileen Canaver says. "I gather from the tone of your phrasing that we can do better faster?"

"In time, yes." Durandal paused for a brief moment, to consider his next tact thoroughly. "They were lucky, picking the Mendel colony to set up base. Within is a facility that was beginning the same thing they have done for eons, and for they it will be only a matter of technical exercise to activate it. This also tells me something of their intentions, something they are not quite conveying to the rest of the world."

"And what is that?" Eileen asks in response, knowing even before phrasing the question what he had derived.

"They intend on remaining here for quite some time, at least a decade. They will not outright say it, but they could not justify the manpower or energy for setting up a Eugenic facility in a colony they expect to abandon in four years."

Though of the same conclusion, the sheer brazenness of the Mendel position was astounding to Eileen. Mendel's actions seemed to indicate that they were completely pissing on Blue Cosmos with the intention to draw heat. The fact that they were doing it in such a fashion that screamed 'long-term hate-hate relationship' to said terrorist group only made the affair seem almost like a calculation to thoroughly piss Blue Cosmos off forevermore, though to what end escaped Canaver for a moment.

_Forevermore_, Eileen thinks, the turn of phrase of her analysis echoing in her head for a moment. "Forevermore," she repeats audibly.

"Chairwoman?" Durandal asks for clarification.

"I cannot believe I have overlooked this for so long," she grumped. "You, Gilbert, are almost assured the next Chair position, the factions in the Supreme Council are already aligning toward your stance."

"Not by choice, Chairwoman, but it is the most sensible path we could take," Durandal replied immediately.

"To borrow one of their old-world turns of phrase, I hope you relish the challenge thereof. You will be playing the game against these Magi and their descendants for many decades to come, possibly longer."

"Oh?" Durandal asked in shock, whether feigned or real Eileen could not tell.

"The writing has been on the wall since we first saw them. I do not doubt their method of coming to this dimension, unless they are institutionally masochistic and would enjoy putting up with the nightmare of politics and war we have bred here."

"However, every actions they take serves a dual purpose," Durandal completes the thought for her. "They are planning to send a ship home, if not the _Mjolnr_, then some other ship they may build. They are also planning for decades, possibly centuries or longer in the here-and-now. Their Eugenics program is simply one example among many of their dichotomy." Durandal paused for a moment, gathering his next thought. "If you will allow me to play devil's advocate, would it not be smart for the Magi to hope for victory, but plan for failure?"

"That may be all that it is," Eileen replied calmly. "However, it should also be safe to say that, administratively, they would not simply abandon the millions of people they are likely to take into their nation." This time, it was Eileen with the pause. "Gilbert, I know my authority is limited in most things, but I have a request of you."

"By all means, Chairwoman," Gilbert replied.

"Do your utmost to ensure that ZAFT is an independent and self-sufficient nation by the time all is said and done, not beholden to even friendly nations for resources and supplies." She meant foodstuffs, military autonomy, and political power, and Durandal clearly knew it. "It invites attack from those envious of our status, but with those burdens we will eventually become a puppet state of someone."

"And with us would die the hopes of true freedom for Coordinators," Durandal concluded the thought adroitly. "I will do what I can, but in the end can we guarantee that the residents of Mendel are as 'liberated' as they claim to be?"

It would be the question to haunt ZAFT for a long time to come.

-x-x-x-

(17 November CE 71, 1000 Hours)  
(Industrial Block 1, Mendel Colony)

"Hey, you hear? The conference has been moved up to now," her supervisor notes from the doorway to her office.

"What? Seriously?" Ezalia asks in response. "Why?"

"Something new just popped up, and the boss thinks it can be big, as in 'major manufacturing contract' big. He wants all the 'engies' in on it, and that includes you."

For Ezalia, the transition had been a fairly smooth one. Orb had not particularly declared that she was unwelcome in the country, but they had also not particularly made her welcome within its borders. Thus, without much motivation to hang around, Ezalia had moved onward, taking a standard fare Dropship flight to Mendel to seek her fortunes in the rough-and-tumble arenas now being built in Mendel industry. Patrick Zala had settled down in Orb, given that his only remaining family was in the nation, and was rumored to now be working as a political consultant for the Ministry of Foreign Relations for the island nation. Morgenroete would not even entertain a request for an interview, so she snap-decided that her fortunes would lie elsewhere.

Given that the Mendel colony was rather isolated, and had some serious transportation needs, Aerospace industries were pride-of-place among the displaced Magi. No fools they were, Ezalia had realized extremely quickly. Displaced military of a massive Empire, incredibly fierce and ruthless in battle, they still clearly knew their limitations and they knew they had to make a showing of cooperation even to those they were intent on telling how much wind to go suck. Aerospace skills were not the highest achievement of the Magi, but most of the aerospace technologies used by the Magi were well in advance of anything ZAFT or the Earth Alliance could muster, which gave them an excellent negotiating position. Seeing the massive _Guild II_-class Dropships in action had told Ezalia she was in the right place, at the right time, with the right skillset to make a killing. Finding an Aerospace company to settle down with was not difficult, and her credentials got her in the door with a welcoming smile.

"What's the big deal?" Ezalia asks. "We're already heading up the new dropshuttle project, why something else?"

"Because little Worker Bee Dropshuttles are not going to save Mendel's arse when the bullets start flying. Our bread-and-butter is going to be the Worker Bee Dropshuttle and Sky Winds Dropship, everyone and their grandma wants massive cargo mobility, but the thing that will keep us alive is military force to fend off the EA."

"Oh," Ezalia feigned overlooking that point. She knew clearly that the EA would not take well to being struck down in their moment of 'glory', and Mendel would eventually pay the reaper's dues for interfering in the Second Battle of Jachin Due. That is, unless Mendel pulled off a real coup and could outpace the EA's ever-expanding military with technological and tactical superiority. "So, this possible contract, what branch is it? Mobile Forces, Aerospace, ground?"

"Aerospace, as far as I know," the supervisor and Engineer pair were the last to enter the conference room. It was also good that she was the last in the door, for she immediately froze when she saw the dark blue uniform and recognized Gerald Lightbringer at the head of the conference table. "Something wrong?" her supervisor asks before taking a seat.

"No, not really, just a past conflict of interest," Ezalia replies before taking her seat.

Gerald said nothing to the surprisingly audible comment from Ezalia. "This is the entirety of who you want in on the planning?" the Century Commander asks after a moment of silence.

"It is," the Project Lead replies. "Ladies and gentlemen, for those of you who do not know, this is Gerald Lightbringer, and he has a very unique proposal for our company. At your option, sir," he says.

Gerald nods. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for receiving me on such short notice. The subject of today's briefing is a proposal from National Command Authority (4), authorizing the implementation of an omnifighter project that is rather unique among the Magi. Your company has been selected for this project due to technical expertise and the presence of military veterans both inside and outside of Magi confluence. Before I go into detail, I would like to set a little background. Please feel free to interrupt me with questions at any time."

Immediately, there were no questions, so the Century Commander pressed on. "In the old Magi history, the one aerofighter credited with giving the other Star Empires the most heartburn per formation was the Fireball. No secret there, some of you have seen them in action, and others have seen the aftermath. There is a bit of a missing link in the Fireball program though, in that a black sheep exists in its family tree—never seen, never spoken, as far as anyone knows not even a prototype craft built for proof-of-concept. The project for this sister aircraft of the Fireball was shitcanned when the Fireball made a huge impression, and before the project engineer could push his aircraft forward to the procurement board, he was accused of being a spy for the Negaverse and shot by the chief of security for Lunar Technical. His work was shelved and the rest of his team was rotated into the Fireball project. Whole thing was swept under the rug and forgotten by even the most fanatical historians; so far as anyone knew, the Fireball omnifighter was the only proposed and designed high-performance omnifighter produced at that time in the 100-ton classification by Lunar Technical. As time went on, it would turn out to be their flagship offering, and to this day the company is still cranking out Fireballs," though these newest fighters were significantly more advanced than their earlier brethren.

Gerald paused a moment to take a sip of water from the lectern he was standing nearby. Again, there were no questions. "Years back, while on medical leave for getting shot up in a rather sticky and very classified operation, I decided to bum around the Lunar Technical and Industrial's archives, see if I could come up with creative ways to improve my team's survival rate and lethality. I had worked with Lunar Technical from time to time, so they didn't mind me browsing while healing up from various GSWs (5) and shrapnel conflicts with the rest of my anatomy. During the search, I came across a rather unusual locked box in the Lunar Technical archives, way the hell in the back on the left side, the area of the archive you have to brush aside cobwebs to get to the files. Did some asking, nobody had a clue what was supposed to be in the box, so I dragged a machinist off their production line and back to the archives to crack the lockbox. Within, I found the designs, engineering notes, industrial process planning, and expected specifications of a fighter that bore significant resemblance to the Fireball, but had several very different and critical modifications from the Magi mainstay. Lunar Technical was not interested, despite the obvious advantages such a unit would provide, and when you get down to it, my command authority was not interested in it, either. The Fireball Omnifighter had been kicking ass from the south side of Existence, across every Ghetto in Existence you can think of, had blown a clear swath of destruction through Downtown Existence, and was still the king of winged whoopass in North-Central Existence, last I checked. No sense running two units so similar when logistics can be maintained simplified as they were."

Gerald paused to take a sip of water from the table he was standing next to. "Wouldn't the same thing apply here? Why bother with two similar planes, when you could stick to one or the other?" Ezalia expected this from the main Sky Winds engineer, who also doubled over as an accountant when the accountants needed some help.

"Good question, engineer," Gerald replies. "The reason why the Fireball took primacy to begin with and maintained it even after I brought the sibling to light is simple. Among most the Star Empire's fighter units, speed is king. When you get down to it, the Fireball is not a slouch by anyone's judgment, but it is also nowhere near as fast as the competition's average. This is where the rubber hits the tarmac, though: the Fireball is _fast enough_ _for Magi tactical doctrine_, and more to the point, it plays to the traditional Magi strengths of elite offense and elite defense, while maintaining just enough speed and maneuver to not be outclassed by the opposition. Were a Clan Sabutai Omnifighter compared to the Fireball, the stats up and down the board are strikingly similar: same expected thrust-to-weight in an unloaded configuration, forty tons pod space, give or take, excellent low-altitude maneuverability, multi-role capability, etcetera. The big difference is defense: the Sabutai, like most Clan Omnifighters, and like practically almost all non-Magi aerofighters, has about half the armor of a Fireball. The combination of acceptable maneuver, good firepower, and excellent defense gave the Magi Fireballs the ability to swat whole lances of enemy fighters out of the sky with aplomb. There were dogfight circumstances where the Fireball was not the best choice available, and I have seen a few of those myself, but for almost all purposes it came down to one job, one machine, no problems."

"Okay, that makes sense, and would it not apply here as well? Some of the advanced ZAFT and EA machines are just as maneuverable as a Fireball, if not more so," Ezalia comments, unconsciously hoping to catch Gerald with his pants down (figuratively speaking, of course).

"Yes and no," Gerald replies immediately. "Yes, in that your analysis is correct, but what is the operative word in your statement?"

Ezalia realized immediately that her attempt was sunk, that Gerald had already considered the advanced / specialist models that ZAFT and the EA had fielded. "Advanced," she replies calmly.

"And that is the 'no' part of the answer in one word," Gerald completes his thought. _My apologies for putting you on the spot like that, Ezalia, but 'advanced prototype' philosophy is something Mendel has to quash early on, before it causes problems in combat_, Gerald tells her telepathically while clicking through projector content to set up the next part of the briefing. "This is the chart of presently-active Earth Alliance and ZAFT Mobile Suits. You will notice clearly that their specialist units, such as the 105 Dagger and CGUE DEEP Arms, compare favorably with the Fireball in most particulars, except in net firepower and defensive measures. Also be advised of the numbers of those high-power units: all told, the amount of produced specialist units for either side totals less than five percent of their expected combatant force at this scale. That being said, Mendel already has the capability to manhandle the upper echelons of the Earth Alliance or ZAFT forces, in our Gundams and Mobile Armors. What is needed, in this case, is appropriate forces to challenge and eradicate the other 95 percent of the enemy force structure without squandering existing assets, and for that, you do not need the high maneuverability of a Fireball." The last entry on the graphical chart was the Fireball, whose maneuverability was exceeded only by the ZAFT Gundams Freedom and Justice, but which topped every other unit on the board in net firepower and blew them all away in defensive measures.

"Okay, that makes perfect sense," Ezalia replies sincerely. "If you don't need the edge, don't waste resources on it," she concludes the thought.

"Exactly, lady Joule," Gerald replies. "And that is where this brute comes in," and Gerald clicks the display projector to switch to the next display, which looked strikingly similar to a Fireball, except not quite...

"It's obviously related to a Fireball," the lead Engineer from the Sky Winds project says. "Only, the fuselage is shorter and wider, there are five smaller engine nozzles instead of the larger four, and the tail is a dual rudder config instead of the single rudder on the Fireball. Same wings and nose assembly?"

"Correct," Gerald replies. "This was intended to be the heavy-hitter of a pair, the Fireball for fire and maneuver, the Thunderball, this craft, was to be the naval interdiction and ground-attack unit, dishing out the punishment that the Fireball necessarily could not carry into battle because of its different design ethic from mid-wing back. The Thunderball differs primarily from its better-known sister in that it trades in the TelStar 400-XL heavy engine system for a smaller, lighter and more compact Vlar 300-XL. This would reduce the maximum thrust of the craft by 18 percent from the Fireball's impressive speed, but in so doing it would increase the internal pod space for weapons and equipment from the Fireball's 40 tons to a whopping 55 tons. Side effect of the reduced powerplant, the per-craft cost is reduced significantly, about 25 percent off the dry-craft price tag, so economically it is more feasible than the Fireball. Lastly, the problem with both the Fireball and the Thunderball is not speed, nor lift in atmosphere, it is the upper limit of what the craft's superstructure and hard-points can handle. The structural limitations of the craft present a maximum loaded internal mass of 100 tons for an aerofighter, to go beyond that you have to dump the fighter profile and use a Small Craft structure, and then you're losing a huge amount of performance to not good cause. The Thunderball was intended to correct the one main deficiency in the Fireball—the relatively small payload-to-mass ratio—by using a smaller engine and housing in exchange for another fifteen tons of internal payload. Trust me, in an intense shooting match, those extra few tons of canned whoopass can make a huge amount of difference, especially when repeated across a formation."

"If I'm reading this correctly, though, the armor on the Thunderball is also a bit heavier than the Fireball," the company President says. Since the Fireball was the gold standard of Magi aerospace combat, he had extensively studied it (under classification and security clearance, of course) to see what improvements could be made.

This took Gerald back a bit. "I believe you are correct, but the increase is not huge, just about a ton overall." he shrugged it off. "This is the departure from Magi normal practice, people. Since we do not have to match or try to equivocate enemy performance, and since we are likely to be at a severe disadvantage of numbers, we have to focus on two qualities for ongoing operations. First, defense is paramount, just as it always has been. The lives of our personnel are not disposable, be they Magi veteran or local recruit, and every defensive advantage we can provide will be used. Simply stated, if all of us do not come home, none of us ever truly come home."

"Hear, hear!" a former ZAFT MS pilot shouts. Never having faced the Magi, he was discharged for having lost an arm in Panama.

"Second, firepower. The great answer to hordes of small, cheap, easily-produced units is having the necessary firepower and technical advantages to prevent the enemy from employing tactics of attrition to any successful degree. As in years past, the primary technical advantage is training. The other advantage is flexibility, and for that the Omnifighter is uniquely suited. Combine the three, firepower, flexibility, and training, and suddenly that company of Earth Alliance Strike Daggers is less threatening in reality than it appears on paper. This is where the Thunderball comes in."

"Okay, sounds like a solid case for the fighter. I take it you are going to want us to build it? And what about Lunar Technical and Industrial?" the owner asks fairly.

"Lunar wanted nothing to do with it, they would not even acknowledge the design existed. As it happened, I purchased the whole kit off Lunar for about five million C-bills, though I had to borrow a few pence from an old friend to complete the transaction. I was intending on setting up my own production line and maybe going mercenary after I retire from active duty, selling my services to the highest bidder and all that, but this jump accident that parked the _Mjolnr_ in the here-and-now has at the least severely delayed such plans. It just so happens that the Thunderball I was intending on using to earn hard cash by busting pirate skulls also happens to be the right weapon platform for the job in these parts, as net firepower is more valuable in these confines than speed would be. Thankfully, I have a real maverick for a commanding officer, and he says run with it."

"Where do we start?" the chief engineer for the company asks, his excitement only barely contained. Ezalia noted that more than half the table was rather excited by the challenge of building real aerofighters capable of showing the MS pricks what for, the other half were excited by the thought of a stable government contract that (probably) would turn out to be extremely lucrative. Ezalia had her reservations, since the Thunderball could be used against ZAFT just as easily as against the Earth Alliance, but she did silently admit to herself that she wanted to put her talents and quasi-military background to more use than it was getting by way of building dinky dropshuttles and an unarmed cargo Dropship.

"As I covered earlier, the engineering is pretty much done, but no prototyping or testing was ever run. As such, from a Magi standpoint there are three things that still need to be resolved. First, the 'Red Team' drill has to be executed. Second, a working prototype has to be built and put through its paces, and third, live-fire or real combat trials have to be run to certify the unit as a combat-worthy platform. We'll start with the 'Red Team' drill, since that has to be done before procurement will accept a prototype." the confused looks were quick to appear from the persons in the room. "The 'Red Team' drill dates back to the Star Empire Wars, back after the initial blows of the war. There were too many companies trying to push crap off as usable field gear, and the Emperor came up with the simplest and most effective way to sort out the shit from the shining gems. When a design was submitted to Procurement, the design would be subjected to the engineering dissection of another company chosen at random from the same industry. This way, Procurement had a third-party and highly competitive engineering breakdown of the new design to look for any possible flaws or weaknesses in the new unit. If there was anything wrong with a design, you can rest assured that the competition would find it and bring it to light, in which case the original team would modify and resubmit their design to Procurement. In this way, the bulk of the flaws were beat out of the design before it hit main production." Gerald paused when he recognized the sound of someone snickering. "Something amusing, Ezalia?"

"Just imaging the instant chaos of MMI and Integrated Design back-checking each other's designs," she replies.

"I could only imagine that such chaos would be even more thorough among the National Defense Industry Association in the Earth Alliance," Gerald replies. "However, this is an integral part of the Magi ethos: we do not send half-baked equipment into battle, just as we do not send untrained or poorly-trained personnel into battle. If a design cannot stand the scrutiny of your peers in the engineering world, for damn sure it is not going to stand the tests and rigors of battle. This being said, if any of you have worries of industrial espionage from this process, allay those fears. If you can demonstrate that another company is unfairly using your innovations without your permission, I can not name a Galaxy Commander in the Techstrikers that would not grant you favorable position and bids in a Trial of Absorption (5) of the offending company."

That was answer enough for most of the project managers. "All right, who is the 'Red Team' to our effort?"

"Actually, you are it," Gerald replies stiffly. "The engineering is done, was done by Lunar Technical, it is your turn to pick it apart and make any necessary modifications. If you have to make mods, then make the mods and I will have the AI on the _Mjolnr_ do the 'Red Team' drill, since right now we do not have any other companies cleared for this kind of tasking. Given the Fireball did not need modification off the drawing board, I doubt the Thunderball will. Once the Red Team paperwork is filed, Procurement will place an initial order of craft for prototype testing and evaluation. The minimum to be picked up will be a star, so expect some legwork once the production begins. We will be supplying engines to specification when production begins. Any questions?"

There weren't any real questions, per se, but the room degenerated into something akin to unadulterated chaos, as six different engineering teams began vying for prime position on the drill and production planning. It took all four of the supervisors in the room to challenge the chaos, to which Ezalia and Gerald both left after the first five minutes.

The two stood silently out in the hall, a meter away from the door, staring at the picture of a flower vase hung on the wall opposite them. They listened to the near-chaos in the room for over ten minutes before either said a word. "I really did not intend to use that against you," Gerald reinforced his prior telepathic comment to her.

"What did you mean by 'advanced prototype principle' when you told me that?" Ezalia asks.

"How many of Gundams Freedom and Justice were built?"

"One each, you should already know this," Ezalia replies indignantly.

"And how much of the war did you expect to affect with only two machines in that class?"

Ezalia was silent for almost a minute. "You really don't believe in one man changing the fates of millions, do you?"

Gerald barks a sharp laugh. "Quite the opposite, milady Joule. The history of the Multimages is the story of one man changing the fate of all known Existence, not just the fate of a few million. Thereafter, the fates of millions, or the course of fate itself, was rewritten by individuals time and time again. It is far from impossible, among the Magi it is demonstrated."

"I sense a 'but' coming," Ezalia prompts him.

"Oh yes, 'but'," Gerald replies for effect, which drew a snort from her. "The actions of one man have changed the fates of worlds countless times. However, for every one such incident, a thousand histories played out with one man accomplishing nothing more than to become an interesting footnote in some historian's published report. You can believe in miracles, nothing wrong with that, but wise is the person who plans ahead for the rote method of solving the problem."

_What problem is that_, Ezalia thought but did not ask aloud. _ZAFT, the Earth Alliance, those mysterious attackers that drove you here, or something else?_

It would be a question to haunt many persons for many years to come.

-x-x-x-

(17 November CE 71, 1200 Hours Lima)  
(Office of the Prime Minister of Orb, Emirate of Orb General Assembly Building)

"So, in short, we can expect the Junius Treaty will be ratified, but there is going to be a huge amount of hedging in here between the Earth Alliance, ZAFT, and Mendel," Rondo Mina Sahaku noted with a flair for the irony in the matter.

"Pretty much so," Cagalli replied evenly. "The only major hold-up is going to be Mendel, on mobile army limitations. Unless they have some creative way of wheedling a big concession out of the other sides, that is. The rest of the treaty is fairly common sense, though there will probably be more arguing about it still."

"They may," Rondo replied immediately. "GC Michaels was making some kind of noise about force limitations in exchange for USSA sovereignty and some technical cooperation from ZAFT, he didn't specify on what the cooperation would be needed, but..."

For all that he had been one of the first to see the true nature of the war, and one of the first to understand the true nature of the Magi, Athrun still felt a little out of place in discussing or planning high-level politics, even despite Cagalli's clear statement that she valued Athrun's input on these matters. Still, this was one issue he had to call. "I don't see the Magi giving up their force structure, even to repatriate the USSA," Athrun interjected clearly.

"Interesting position, Athrun. Justification?" The question from Rondo was very polite.

"Psychological," Athrun replied after a moment. "The warriors are the government, therefore for them to limit their forces, they have to limit the service they can provide to the civilians."

"If they were to eliminate forces I could see that, but if the treaty just goes with a mobile army limitation, they would just shelve the units, deactivate them, and reassign the personnel, I think," Rondo retorted, though his rejoinder at the end was ample evidence that even he did not have full intelligence on their intentions.

"I just don't see them limiting themselves in any way," Athrun replied calmly but forcefully. "This might be the contention point that folds the treaty."

Cagalli nodded silently. "Suggestions for sweetening it to the point that Mendel would take such an offer?"

"Well, the USSA is repatriated, for starters, and that fits our strategic model nicely," Rondo immediately offered. "How about technical cooperation on recommissioning colonies in the L4 area?"

"Doable," Cagalli replied. "Also a good opportunity for our personnel to train when they are in Mendel airspace. Maybe see if they can schedule some joint exercises?"

"Might work, maybe ZAFT would be willing to help, that could go a long way toward Mendel being favorable, I would think."

"How about flexible unit availability?" Athrun offered. "Allow them a floor figure of units active, and an increasing amount by the amount of colonies they have active or under construction. Same for ZAFT, which would allay Earth Alliance fears about their 'enemy' force structures. From a ZAFT standpoint, this should also allow them to expand as needed without fear of having too few forces to police the PLANTs."

"Whoa," Rondo gaped, having not considered such a radical departure from 'fixed forces' or the deplorable possibility of unilateral disarmament. "That...that may do the job," she comments further, thinking down four lines at once. "Yes, that will do the job, you see the Magi complaining?"

"No, that would be perfect," Cagalli replied immediately. "We will have to play with the wording, but so long as Mendel can expand their forces proportionally to guard their expanding holdings, and so long as they can build up supplies and forces to take home with them, they will buy it."

"Why build up forces for expanding holdings? It's not like they're going to stay here...is it?" Athrun mumbled the last part of the question after locking eyes with Rondo. "Is...it?"

"History shows that territory held is rarely, if ever, relinquished," Mina Sahaku replied in an even tone. "They will return home, but they will also maintain a presence here because not all the civilians would want to leave, and given what Mendel is doing for the independence efforts of the USSA, it is safe to say that there will be some nations that do not want Mendel or the Magi to simply up and disappear. The Scandanavians are mostly neutral about it, the Equatorial are a little on the hostile side toward Mendel, the EA wants them to drop dead, but so far I don't see much of an opinion in ZAFT or here in Orb."

"I have to give them credit for putting their ship in between Februarius and that last nuke, but I can't forgive them for how much devastation they caused to both ZAFT and the EA," Athrun made his position clear, for what it counted in the confines of this discussion.

"Would ZAFT take that position as well?" Rondo asked sincerely.

"I do not know about the Supreme council, and with the makeup likely to change drastically after the treaty, I couldn't begin to guess," he admitted candidly. "From a military standpoint, however, I don't see ZAFT sweeping the Second Battle of Jachin Due under the rug, especially the survivors. There will be tension, and there probably will be enmity for a long time to come."

"Durandal's going to be a wild card, but word from our network in Mendel is that he was in to speak with his Magi counterpart, Star Colonel Wilhelm. It's fairly safe to say they were discussing genetics, and likely they were discussing eugenics programs." This was supposition on his part, since the asset that generated this 'unusual' tidbit of information was nominally an aerospace intelligence operation (spy job) and was not directly exposed to the proceeding meeting, but that Durandal had been seen in Mendel and that it was 'semi-quiet' on both ZAFT's side and Mendel's side made it noteworthy. "As you probably read, the Star Colonel was granted permission to begin the first Mendel creche under probationary status (6), so there is a possibility that Durandal may already be looking favorably at the Mendel if just from a eugenics standpoint. He may have been in Mendel to get some advice on setting one up in the PLANTs." She grimaced about something. "What would one call a Eugenics facility?"

Athrun shrugged. "If they said it, I don't remember," Cagalli replied after a moment's pause. "Anyways, ZAFT may be a wild card but I think from a political standpoint they will probably side against the EA in actions they take, inasfar as they can without upsetting the cease-fire already in place. If Mendel is involved, they probably will take action to limit Mendel, but not in a dramatic way."

Rondo understood what Cagalli was basing her analysis on. "Another stalking horse for the Earth Alliance," she commented. "The more to harry the erstwhile foes on one hand, while probably borrowing Mendel's technical acumen to put in place methods for continued survival of the people of ZAFT."

"And, given what briefings we have had on Durandal, it fits perfectly," Cagalli replied in turn. "He has to be thinking long-term, like decades ahead. It fits," she grumped.

"The Eugenics programs?" Athrun asked. "And...something more; if he is thinking decades ahead, because even with increased renewable population the PLANTs are still vulnerable to the Earth Alliance—that has to be it!" Athrun brought his fist down on the table after he realized what the grand end-game scenario had to be from a ZAFT perspective, and how Mendel would facilitate it.

"Oh yes, take 'the Earth' out of the equation, suddenly ZAFT is no longer threatened by annihilation," Rondo Mina Sahaku could sound no colder in their opinion. "Mendel will give unto this world the ability to travel to other worlds, other dimensions, and in so doing may shift the game into such a complex arena that not even the machinations of the Earth Alliance would be able to squelch ZAFT. Mutually Assured Destruction in perfect inverse," she concluded with a clear hint of admiration. "Under such a scenario, there is no way in Hell that the Earth Alliance could get them all, a long-term victory condition, if not necessarily the most graceful one."

"Mutually Assured Survival?" Cagalli asked, to which the answer was a curt nod. "I'm not sure if Wayne would be thinking in those terms," Cagalli hedged. "He always came off as..."

"A ruffian, something of a dolt, a barbarian with all the interesting toys, and he flew everything by the seat of his pants," Athrun commented a bit archly. "But, in the end, I think that's at least part ruse, obfuscating stupidity in action," he added in after a moment's silence.

"The Magi did not survive sixteen thousand years by being techno-barbarians with interesting toys, flying by the seat of their pants the whole way," Rondo replied calmly, borrowing Athrun's phrase. "Wayne may be all of what you said, at least partially, but he is an Admiral in an Empire that buries most of its political hacks in shallow graves and publicly humiliates the remainder. He probably has a healthy appreciation of history and knows how to look forward just as easily as he looks backwards or to the sides. And then there is his subordinates, Rico, Gerald, Calamira, Ward," Rondo concluded with a hanging note.

"Yeah," Cagalli picked up the slack: "If not him, then someone else in the command structure has figured out a way to prevent ZAFT from being annihilated. Now, any love for Orb?"

"That is going to be a little tricky," Rondo replied artfully. "We lack the manpower to start an ambitious expansion program and get immediate results like the bigger players, but in time we can do it. However, if we hitch our operation to the coat-tails of some of the larger parties, we can cruise for free until such a time as we can start forging our own path..."

-x-x-x-

(17 November CE 71, 1400 Hours Lima)  
(Briefing Room of the Intelligence Oversight Committee, Earth Alliance Chamber of Representatives)

"This hearing is now in order," the Chairman declared after the opening rap of the gavel. "This inquiry will cover operations in the South American theater and intelligence pertaining to the persons in and around the Mendel colony at LaGrange point 4."

The initial statement done, the hearing now shifted focus to the Select Intelligence Representative, the true power-player of this committee. "The Panel calls Admiral William Sutherland to the floor," she ordered. Admiral Sutherland stood at the time his name was called, then briskly marched at the expected pace of two steps a second to the bench for his hearing. At the bench he stood at attention, after having set his admiral's hat on the bench top. "Admiral William Sutherland, do you henceforth swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I so swear," William replied immediately.

"You may be seated, Admiral," and in moments William was seated and positioned in the most comfortable way he could in the less-than-comfortable chair provided for this exercise. "We will begin with the operations in South America at this time. Please deliver your report on the region."

"Lady Chairwoman, at this time the following has changed from my last briefing delivered one week ago. All forces involved in the occupation of the USSA have been recalled to staging bases in the interior of the continent, with the last of those forces expected to arrive 20 November at 1000 hours. This is in accordance with operations intending to conduct a blitzkrieg-style attack against all major and most minor rebel groups on or about the 22nd of this month. At present, the rebellious forces have been seen to declare the retreat of the Earth Alliance forces as a victory for the rebellion, and such messages are continuing even as we speak. It is estimated that these actions are lulling the rebels into a false sense of victory, which will be helpful in the attack phases outlined in our battle plan."

"What are the expected chances of success and estimated losses to Earth Alliance forces involved?"

"At this time, estimates on the chances of success are very high, with estimates of losses being on the order of one division total, two divisions maximum. The rebellion has little organization outside certain regions, and their ability to put up a defense against weighted assaults will be minimal at best." the Admiral tried hard to keep his voice even, not hinting at the possibility that something was going wrong.

"Very well, you are aware that intelligence reports are showing movements in certain rebel formations at this time?"

"We have reviewed these reports, and believe that only part of these reports are accurate. Reconnaissance assets have not identified the course tracks of fully two-thirds of those reports, nor have they confirmed that said units are remaining in position. The ground forces in the area have begun deploying recon screens and Spearhead fighters outfitted for ELINT (7) and Photo-Recon missions. If the rebels are following us in preparation for a preemptive strike, we will know beforehand, and we will be ready for it."

_I see now why this guy is getting rave reviews from the EA brass, he thinks like they do_, the Chairwoman thought. "Very well, on the next issue of the briefing, we would like you to provide some analysis on the intelligence we have begun receiving from inside Mendel. Please open briefing folder 3 and review the contents. We will wait."

Admiral Sutherland used the provided letter-opener to slit the red-striped 'Classified' tape around the folder edges. Inside, past the documents promising copious amounts of pain and death should he reveal the secrets within to the wrong people, the real briefing documents began to paint an interesting picture of Mendel that was not readily available through normal or military channels. The reading only took ten minutes, though two of the pages he re-read and cross-referenced for accuracy.

"Madam Chairwoman, the documents as such provide no clear intelligence picture on intentions, but they do provide some interesting technical information that, while not immediately useful, is still a bit of a concern."

"Please enumerate," she ordered.

"Primarily, the fact that Mendel is forming up new forces from recruits drawn in by the off-and-on evacuations to Mendel is indication that they believe their position to be not as secure as they would otherwise say. That being said, it goes without saying that right now their position is more than secure enough to repel any attempt of attack from ZAFT, Orb, or the Earth Alliance, or a combination of the above, but they are looking past the next several months and see positions where their existing forces may not be ample to defend the colonies."

"Do you believe that, at any point in the near future, the Earth Alliance will be in a position to enforce policy on the Mendel colonies?"

Admiral Sutherland paused at the question, considering his words carefully. He could sense this was one of those times whereby what he said would determine upcoming policy and thereafter the fate of the Alliance itself, possibly of its member-states as well.

"No, Chairwoman, at no time in the next several years will the Earth Alliance be able to overwhelm Mendel, barring outside factors, especially given this information I just reviewed. The naval superiority of Mendel forces well exceeds any shortfalls we may be able to counter with force of numbers in Mobile Suits. To attack them as they are now would be to sign the death warrants on the bulk of the Earth Alliance and its member states."

"Please explain your logic, Admiral," the Selected Intelligence Representative replied, sparing the real Chairman of the committee the question.

"Simply stated, the Mendel Warships are so far ahead of anything either the ZAFT or the Earth Alliance fields that even in mass the Monitors cannot be stopped—and God help a force that tries attacking the _Mjolnr_ in any fashion." He remembered the footage of the rear-arc barrages of naval autocannon that could also shred ship and small craft just as readily as the forward or side armaments, and how the rear of a ship could be so powerful had stunned him then and now. "In all real terms, the Earth Alliance has only one classification of asset capable of matching the Mendel warships, and that is the _Archangel_-class ships. Evidence enough is the fact that Mendel has captured two and shows all evidence of retaining those ships indefinitely, as shown by their complete unwillingness to bargain for the return of _Thrones_ and _Dominion_."

"And how could that be construed as signing the death warrants of the Earth Alliance member states?" one of the other panel members requested.

"With a complete inability to counter their naval superiority, Mendel will at the least deny space to anyone they do not want up there. This will also have the side effect of cutting the lunar bases off from routine supply, and most disastrously will give them free reign over an area they commonly call 'suborbital reaches', the area just above the atmospheric interface. If they have control of near-space, they have the ability to selectively or widely employ suborbital bombardment on any point on earth."

"They wouldn't dare, it would destroy what political influence they had," one of the career politicians on the board replied.

"Political influence is mostly irrelevant to the Magi." Sutherland let that thought hang in the air for a moment, to make sure these politicians realized they were not dealing with their ilk, they were dealing with military officers. "More to the point, if you give them cause the question is not 'would they' but 'how quickly would they', in the end." There was a bit of a stir among the panel, but it silenced fast enough. "It is no secret that I have one of the few Magi bondsmen serving directly under me, correct?"

"This is well known," the Select Intelligence Representative replied. _And rather disliked_, she thought in the dead silence thereafter. Blue Cosmos wanted that bondsman dead, as it was obvious he was Eugenic given how big he was.

"The Bondsman in question is a Star Captain that I assigned as a Specialist Adjunct on Magi Combat Theory, and more to the point he is one of a rare fraternity trained in the art of spotting for suborbital naval support fire. He knows the entire doctrine under which Magi warships would employ suborbital fire, and has informed me that, given the force structure the _Mjolnr_ had been operating under, the only effective option Star Admiral Centara has would be to deny space to the Earth Alliance, pinning us on the ground, then shell the planet and seas below until the Earth Alliance surrenders or he runs out of targets. It really is that simple, pin us on the ground, erase us off the face of the earth, no more problem." He also didn't have to say that after having scoured the Earth Alliance down to bedrock, what little forces the Magi had would be easily capable to taking over at least a good segment of the land just vacated by its rightful authority. That part of the message got through loud and clear.

"At what point can they be brought in line or be removed from the Earth Sphere?" The most silent of the members asked. Admiral Sutherland knew that said person was a major player in the National Defense Industry Association - which also meant he was a Blue Cosmos member and possibly also a member of LOGOS, the latter of which Admiral Sutherland knew very little about.

"The only effective way to take the Magi out of the equation is to completely cripple their naval and transport capabilities. That means all Warships, Dropships, and unfortunately it also means the _Mjolnr_, which we know it took a nuclear missile broadside and continued fighting. Anything less would not be enough to achieve such an objective." _And God help us if I am right and the Star Admiral really can phone home for reinforcements_, the Admiral thought but did not directly say. "However, as you are all aware, the Mendel administration has demobilized the _Mjolnr_, and reports from independent media confirm that they are preparing to start performing major rebuilds on the necessary components of the warship. It is believed that while these operations are underway, the _Mjolnr_ would be out of commission as a usable battle platform. If this information is accurate, that is possibly the only time under which the Magi might be vulnerable enough to cripple."

"Can you have assets ready in ample time to conduct such an attack?"

Again, another one of those moments where William knew he was writing policy, and he knew the tack he had to take. "No ma'am, I have four Warships under construction at this time capable of going toe-to-toe with the Magi; and even with those four active I cannot reasonably assure a positive outcome. My operational recommendation is to increase production of _Archangel_-class ships across the board and move up the newer _Girty Lue_-class to full production to give us a chance at challenging their naval superiority in four or five years."

"Expensive," one of the younger board members replied.

"Ma'am, the net production cost of the _Montgomery_, one of the smaller _Riga_-class Missile Corvettes, is 1.42 billion c-bills, or approximately 7.1 billion earth-dollars per ship, which is very close to the production cost of the _Archangel_ per ship. In material terms, the cost of the _Drake_-class ships is about 35 million C-bills per ship by their analysis, making them dirt-cheap and easily-produced, but with a fairly obvious caveat," the Admiral declared coldly.

"Yes, we have seen the reports on how easily the _Drake_-class and _Nelson_-class ships were sunk by the Magi. You are saying that countering them with quantities of smaller ships is not going to be ample to break them?"

"No, ma'am, they train specifically to fight wars of attrition, to fight lesser-quality enemies en masse and annihilate them. There will eventually be a point at which they cannot counter a war of attrition, but all analysis shows that point to be well in excess of what the Earth Alliance can handle economically and militarily without internal collapse. If our intention is to take them out of play, we must do so by way of our best ships and best crews, and even then the butcher bill threatens to be very high."

"Thank you for the analysis, Admiral. We must confer for a moment."

The six-member panel stepped into an antechamber while the Admiral continued to page through the briefing folder available to him. The information was not particularly surprising, but not entirely welcome regardless. The Magi had just about every advantage a military officer could want: remote location with clearly guarded avenues of approach, severely advanced technology, superb training, loyal (almost fanatical) soldiers, and from most viewpoints, they held the moral high-ground and had sited their artillery on it. The only thing they lacked was force of numbers, which is the one thing that consoled Admiral Sutherland into believing that the Magi's true intention was not to take over the Earth Sphere. If they were here to take and hold land, they would have come with more dedicated ground forces than they had, especially infantry. A short Galaxy of Marines and a full Galaxy of Battlemechs was nowhere near enough to take over Earth given the density of population on the planet and density of military forces held by the various states on planet. The only people that really did not understand such a miniscule tidbit happened to be the most unruly and violent organization on planet, Blue Cosmos, who kept on prating that the Magi were going to invade and somehow turn everyone into Coordinators or demons or some shit like that. _Only the unwashed could believe something so idiotic_, Admiral Sutherland lamented silently.

The panel reconvened after about fifteen minutes in closed doors. "Admiral Sutherland, your recommendation has been reviewed and will be implemented immediately. All available and suitable naval graving docks will be commissioned to begin production on _Archangel_-class ships, and facilities on the moon will be directed to begin full-scale production on the _Girty Lue_-class ships. As such, it is the recommendation of this board that Naval Command begin preparations to crew these ships with personnel adequate to the task of bringing down the Magi."

-x-x-x-

(18 November CE 71, 0800 Hours UTC)  
(_Guild II_-class Dropship _Sailboat Reborn_)

"This is independent reporter Jess Rabble, reporting from the mid-deck of the Cargo Dropship _Sailboat Reborn_, only today this ship is not transporting food or metal. In two days, ships from the Emirate of Orb, the Multimage Protectorate of Mendel, The Zodiac Alliance of Freedom Treaty, the Earth Alliance, the Kingdom of Scandinavia, the Equatorial Union, the Junk Guild, and the unsung heroes of the past war, the _Archangel_, will converge on this Dropship for the purpose of conducting extended negotiations on a multitude of subjects, most notably officially concluding the end of the war."

The camera panned throughout the deck, where conference tables were being set up and chairs aligned for the forthcoming occupants to take residence.

"I am told by the crew that the negotiations to end the war will be happening on the upper decks, in the crew lounge area two floors short of the top-deck and bridge of this massive ship. Here on the mid-deck, the negotiations will cover mostly trade and commerce issues, with separate negotiation panels comprising interested parties for such subjects as transport regulations, free passage of civilian shipping, tariffs, exchange of non-military technologies, dual-use industries, and civilian aerospace contracts."

The view shifted to what appeared to be a docking area in the ship. Readily visible were the tie-down points for the expected multitude of the shuttles, as well as gantries and equipment for performing maintenance on the incoming vehicles.

"The decks below the Mid-deck, known to the crews as the Swamp Deck and the Bilge Deck, have been converted to shuttle landing and maintenance on deck four and a combination cargo storage and extended galley or mess hall on the lower deck, allowing the ship to properly see to the influx of people and keep everyone well fed and reasonably comfortable. Some quarters are also available on the ship for negotiation teams who do not wish to continually transit back and forth between their ship and the Dropship."

Again the view shifted, from mechanics organizing the landing areas to slightly better negotiating accommodations, with the notable exception being that these accommodations were close to the same as the ones on the mid-deck but had already been completed.

"Above me, on cargo decks one and two, negotiations will be held on some of the major non-treaty subjects, such as asteroid mining and rights, transport throughout the solar system, and the major subject of contention, travel beyond our solar system and methods of acquiring this almost-fabled technology from Mendel. The expectation is that Mendel will make this possible, but at what cost is still open for speculation. However, of more interest to most businesses shall be the strides taken in asteroid mining, as repeated surveys have shown impressive treasure-troves of many critical materials in the fields of rock but the lack of technology available to make efficient asteroid mining possible has hampered the world for decades."

The view shifted back to Jess Rabble. "For today, the crew of the _Sailboat Reborn_ prepares for the influx of negotiating teams, but in two days hence the negotiations begin in earnest. Already representatives from the Earth Alliance and ZAFT are in route, with the teams from the countries below us gathering in Orb to take the next Dropship off-planet which will rendezvous with this ship in less than 20 hours. Perversely, the representative teams from Mendel will be leaving last despite having the farthest to go, as their ship has the shortest transit time of all. I will keep the world posted on the progress of the negotiations in their entirety, with hourly reports as the negotiations progress day by day. This is Jess Rabble, from the mid-deck of the Dropship _Sailboat Reborn_, signing off."

-x-x-x-

(18 November CE 71, 1150 Hours UTC)  
(Gregor Mendel Primary Academy, Residential Block 3, Mendel Colony)

"All right, people, time is up," the Instructor ordered in his usual command voice.

"Dude, that sucked," the guy in front of her said. His comment drew a ripple of assents from other students around the room.

"I know, I know, these tests blow," the Marine-reassigned-instructor said sympathetically. "When I was hacking my way through the standard education requirements, I tried using Trial by Combat to get my class out of having to take these craptastic tests." there were a few sniggers at the thought. "Needless to say, I failed, and I ended up having to clean the school bathrooms for the rest of the year. Messy, and I still had to take the tests," there were a few more grim chuckles from other students in the room. "All things considered, I am required to issue these tests, but I weight them pathetically low in overall grade by giving more reasonable exams and course requirements that aren't on as strict and unyielding a timer. You can relax, I only have one more of these timed torture-tests to give, and that one not for several weeks."

_Good_, Ashe thought but did not say. The fact that he was even-handed and dynamic in his teachings instantly made Instructor Dion one of her favorites, as well as sympathetic (to a point) with the students. The fact that he was also about 25 helped quite a bit, though most weren't all that willing to say it.

"Now, I have to deliver the flip-side of this argument, of course. There is a very clear reason as to why these tests exist, so much crammed into so little time, because sometimes you run into problems like that. You will run into situations where you have to react fast and think fast, and given the amount of pencils down before I called time, I expect fairly good results. Pressure is something you will encounter in your day-to-day affairs, whether you are civilian or military. So, a little squeeze is in order, I daresay," he declared.

"Oh shit," someone on the other side of the room grumped.

"Good instincts, bad language," their Instructor immediately commented, pointing to the offending party. "Pushups or extra work, your choice."

There was a bit of a duality among the Marines, Ashe had found out within the first week. Not all were of the 'salty language' school of thought, and Dion was one of those outside that camp. So, when foul language was used, he gave them the opportunity to rectify the matter by way of pushups or an extension to their next assignment. And he never forgot about who owed what. "I'll take the pushups, sir," said student replied before he stood up.

The football player stood there at attention for a moment, not moving. "Well, get to it, and no skipping numbers or playing number games. I'll clear you when done."

_Thankfully, I avoid swearing in the presence of others_, Ashe thought while the football player began in earnest.

"Regardless, as your classmate correctly deduced, it is time for a bit of pressure, get you used to it before it starts in earnest." There were groans throughout the class, but Ashe was not one of them. "Three pages, analysis paper, minimum two sources. Look back through history at pretty much anything, this timeline, Common History timeline, Magi timeline, your call and I make no restrictions on what. However, since this is an analysis paper, I want to hear your thoughts, your understanding, your logic, your conclusions. Don't gin me up a rehash of some washed up historian's position paper, I want to hear the real deal from you people. I am relatively sure you can read between the lines for your own amusement, now put it to good use for your grades. You have four days, no rush."

_Oh shit, three pages of analysis paper in four days? This is gonna suck_! Ashe thought out loud but did not say. Belatedly she hoped that she had not broadcast the thought, either.

-x-

"Well, this should be calm during the negotiations," Gerald declared for the benefit of the others in the room. "Thankfully, the Earth Alliance is not normally in the habit of posturing with their fleets during political wrangling, at least not up here in space, therefore we can expect they will stand down and perform equipment maintenance while jaw-jackin' us at the table."

"And, on the off-chance that someone decides to start shit while two of our Warships are away, we get some pretty good advance warning," Calamira declared with a bright note to voice. "It's what they pay me for, after all."

"Remember the lesson of the thousand-yard stare," Galaxy Commander Michaels cautions her. "Looking far and wide for Warships is all well and dandy, but you don't want someone to skewer your kidney while you were listening out and about. There are four cells of Blue Cosmos asshats in the colony, all mildly armed, and there are three Orb Intelligence Officers in the colony as well, with one of them being armed mildly as well."

"I hear that, sir," Calamira declared, not having forgotten about the enemies within the walls of the colony.

_Oh shit, three pages of analysis paper in four days? This is gonna suck_! To Calamira, the shout was somewhat faded but far from distant. It had to be within three-quarters of a kilometer of where she was sitting, not a hard thing to do for a colony that was only 4.5 kilometers long.

"Gerald, did you just hear that?" Calamira asked.

"Hear what?" Gerald replied immediately. "Was it telepathic?"

"I think it was, I'm not sure though," Calamira replied.

"See to it," Wayne ordered immediately. He knew that the collective crews of the 'Three Sisters' of the rebellion knew Calamira and knew her well. So far, however, nobody outside that circle had even twigged to the presence of the Strategic Psionic. Therefore, Wayne knew that if someone was playing with Psionics inside the colony, there was a possibility that someone was operating a counter-asset, and he wanted such threats shut down immediately.

"Aff, sir," Calamira was quick to leave the room and returned to her office, where she was out of LOS to the other Psionic heavy-hitter of the command staff, Gerald Lightbringer.

_Oh shit, and I have a paper due in Applied Science, now what?_ Calamira heard from the mystery broadcaster, and since she was expecting it, and could sense a bit of agitation in the next sector over, tracing the speaking party was not a difficult task. Somewhere in Gregor Mendel Primary, which was presently running mostly finalizing classes for students that were at or ahead of Magi minimum schooling requirements but did not complete their prior schooling. For the students that passed the six-months finalizing classes, they could choose their own fate henceforth: take an acceptable job, trade school, college for the daring ones, or enlist in the military. They just had to prove themselves up to the standards.

Though she fell silent in terms of broadcast, the agitation was still seeping out, and Calamira could home in on raw emotions just as easily as the telepathically spoken word. A little bit of back-and-forth sensing narrowed down the position of the speaker to somewhere on the fourth floor, and a little further checking around narrowed it down to one class, taught by a Marine that Calamira recognized. Star Captain Dion, she knew, a wise Marine with a penchant for speaking softly and carrying a very big stick out on the battlefield. Figuring out the cause of the teenage angst was simple enough, he had laid on a decent paper with no forewarning, and that was interfering with another paper due in short order.

Calamira traced the gaggle of students out of the classroom, reasonably sure she had narrowed it down to three or four ladies in the class. Thankfully, the group had to split up, two of them headed to other classes, two of them headed to lunch. The target angst was headed in for some hot chow, so that eliminated two of the students off the bat—more the better, since the possible P/D/B (8) this target was operating under was at least rival to Calamira, and the two that went to class were people that would have made piss-poor Strategic Psionics. She watched the lunch crew with interest...

-x-

"This is cruel," 'Seph' grumped. "Another paper, and this one laid on with damn near zero warning. Did you get anything?"

"No, he fooled us both, Sapphire," Ashe used her full name instead of the common shortened version. "He had no paper planned yesterday, I know that for sure."

"Damn, am I going to have to start checking him in the morning, then?" Sapphire replied.

"Bad joss, I take it? You're bleeding a bit of anxiety, Ashe," Leon asked as he took a seat with the two ladies in question.

"I'll live, just a paper laid on with no warning in my Analytical History course."

"That sucks, how bad?"

"Three pages in four days," 'Seph' replied coldly. "Oh, this is so going to screw things up for me."

"He does have a rather cruel point, though. Unexpected crap does come up at the worst possible times. This...well, I'd hate to think of it, but—"

"It really is training for out-and-about-land," Leon replied grimly. "I would have thought I didn't need to tell you two about how brutal it is outside this colony."

"You're right, I'm just being a whiner today," Ashe replied. "I'll bet he rolls dice or something like that before he begins his classes."

"Dunno, but if he wants to simulate a non-school environment and the stress it generates, objective completed," Sapphire replied acidly.

Leon chuckled mirthlessly. "You know, the classes I look forward to most, in a sort of dread fascination way, are the classes taught by the military instructors," both Ashe and Sapphire groaned. "The regular classes, the teachers from the Earth Alliance? Bah, screw 'em. Bland, boring, predictable, and pathetically easy, like they're not interested in challenging the students. Granted, I got one Aerofighter pilot that tends to drone on sometimes, and that's freaking boring to the point of wanting to stab myself for some kind of external stimuli to stay awake, but I can't accuse 'Autopilot' of giving wussy assignments." 'Autopilot' was the classes nickname of his Applied Sciences instructor. "Man, if I could take nothing but Marine-led classes, I would."

"Some days, I would welcome a little 'easy' to go with my other classes," Sapphire griped. She had all Magi-trained instructors, from all four of the common groups of them (Marines, Naval, Aerospace, and MS Pilots), and she even had the 'odd man out' of the faculty, a Battlemech pilot moonlighting as an instructor. Since training for school instruction was easily done off-duty on a Warship, there were a lot of the Magi-trained instructors to go around, and as it happened teachers were not the largest demographic that had abandoned the other nations to come to Mendel. A lot of the Magi-trained instructors taught very dynamic classes, covering a wide array of interrelated topics all at once, which kept the classes interested and most importantly active. That, of course, did not contribute to them being easy, especially since the instructors tended to push the students just to the edge of their skills.

"Nah," Ashe replied after a moment of consideration. "I haven't ever actually enjoyed school until I came here, or living anywhere else for that matter."

"And, of course, you wouldn't have met us," Leon said.

"Shall we?" Sapphire asked.

"Yeah," and all three gave a hand to the center of their table, allowing them to touch, and thereby complete something more personal than they would ever admit to outsiders.

-x-

_That...is bloody interesting_, Calamira thought aloud without broadcasting it.

She did not realize she had company. "from your facial expression, I take it you just stumbled across something noteworthy," Admiral Centara asked of her from just inside the door, with the door closed, of course.

"Three Psionics, in the same school, already have found each other and appear to have formed a triangle," Calamira replied after having her concentration broke by the Star Admiral's comment. "The other two are not all that impressive in terms of active P/D/B right now, but at least one of them is serious Strategic Psionic material." For Calamira, there was no worry of impropriety from the Star Admiral, as her record proceeded her and she knew the Star Admiral was on the level. Having him show up in her office, though not 100% welcome all the time, was not particularly grievous either.

Wayne took a seat in one of the moderately-comfortable chairs she had acquired for her office. The chair she was in was even more impressive, since it matched the chair Wayne had acquired for his own. "If you'll excuse me for being an old, doddering Star Admiral, mind you refreshing me on this subject? I gather it is a bit significant," Wayne replied.

"Oh, it is," Calamira assured her commander. "There are really only two known pyramid schemes in Existence that work, one is interplanetary expansion, and the other is Psionics arts. You know about the pyramid effect of colonization, right?"

"Yeah, we covered it in naval academy, since eventually we officers would end up supporting that colonization effort," and Wayne had supported those efforts, having made three runs of colony personnel during his time with ships prior to the _Mjolnr_. "And the other?" he inquires.

"One Strategic Psionic is one Strategic Psionic, end of story. Not terribly impressive in the grand scheme of things, unless your enemy doesn't have a freaking clue and is required to be in close prox (9) like we are crowded around the planet below us." She paused for a moment, dredging up long-ago-learned lessons on this subject. "When you have two Psionics that can work closely together as a Psion Team, as these kids appear to be doing, they become greater than simply the sum of each member – the equation is typically A plus B squared. Three member teams follow the equation A plus B plus C cubed, and four members comes out as A plus B plus C plus D to the fourth."

"The equation builds on itself empirically," Wayne replied. "I remember that much, but what makes this case so interesting?"

Calamira blanched, wondering how the Star Admiral had come to the same conclusion as she had, though after a quick moment she came to the conclusion that it was pure chance. "There is an anomaly in the equations that determine how well teams work together. Typically, teams that work together stay together because their effectiveness is greater than if you mix the teams up. For that reason, if a team can't work together properly, ergo grossly different base psychology in one or more members, it is weeded out in training and the involved teams are rebuilt. Internally, the factor that determines how well they work together is called Psion Coefficient, and no, someone that wasn't a Strategic Psionic came up with that term. If you factors that in, the equation for a two-member team becomes A plus B, the result times Coefficient, then square that result. Follow?"

"Makes perfect sense, like a wardroom on a Warship. The best ships have a senior staff that grooves together well, that anticipate each others' actions and orders, where the ones that get their asses kicked routinely usually have a mash of varying personalities in the command structure."

"Exactly so," Calamira commented. Nobody in the know accused Star Admiral Centara of being a dumbass, and he had a habit of proving his skills adroitly in the strangest of places... "Well, the typical coefficient is normally 0.95, representing only a very minor loss due to the base personae involved in the teamwork. Strategic considers 0.8 to be the cutoff, below that teams are rebuilt. However, there are instances where teams go above 1.00 for a Coefficient, and these are often called Super-Pairs or Super-Triangles or such. Team that work together so well they exceed the theoretical upperbound of what they should be capable of."

Her tone of voice told more than enough tale to Wayne. "You were...part of one of those teams, weren't you?"

"Yes, and no," was the answer. "Technically the team I was part of was a Super-Triangle, but it was more than that. There is another level beyond the Super Teams, called Ultras, teams whose Coefficient itself becomes a square or a cube, not a simple multiplier. There have only been nine Ultra Teams in the entire history of the Strategic Psionics, five pairs, three triads, and one pentagon. Mine was one of the triangles, and we were broken up by order of the Admiralty when I shot a political hack for trying to rape me." Calamira was silent for a moment. "There...is no way to describe it to an outsider, really. Husband and wife are not as close as a Psionic Team; nor any other iteration of common concept love or family. There just is no description for three people living in among each others' thoughts, whims, actions." Again, she was silent for a moment. "When I was reassigned, the Admiralty effectively sentenced three Strategic Officers to wracking, daily torture. When I get back, I will go before Empress Atrebas and request justice."

"There may be a waiting line at that time, Calamira," Wayne replied solemnly. "So, you are saying that these three you stumbled across may be an Ultra Team?"

"It is close, real close, but my present leaning is yes." Calamira paused, considering something not visible to Wayne. "In all real terms, the three of them working together are more powerful than I am, all they lack is training."

"Well, if that is the case, drop 'em a line, see if they want a permanent job," Wayne said nonchalantly.

"That's the thing, boss," Calamira hedged. "One, they're all disqualified right now because they are still in finishing courses. Two, I don't have a full read on their mindset yet. They may not be suited to the job at a psychological level."

"Well, you be the expert on this subject, Calamira, you make the call. For what it's worth, if they fit the bill, I make no objection to having a Psion Team in the unit."

_The have to handle pressure dynamically_, Calamira thought as Wayne excused himself. _If they cannot stomach the premise of a simple surprise paper, they won't be able to hack it reading hostile minds. This trial may be more than just a grade for them_.

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

I LIVE! HAR HAR HAR!

Now that I have that comment sorted out, I think I should mention that the shit is still deep out here. Jobs are in short supply in Ohio, and more to the point, in my field there have been a huge amount of layoffs, which means there is a mass of people with twice or more my quals applying for jobs at my level or below. That really is not helping matters in the end.

Regardless, herein stands the beginning of the final negotiations, and also here stands the beginning of the butcher job in the South American territories. Both sides are apprised of the other's intentions, now we need to see who gets their respective battleplan right. On that I can promise you South America will be drenched in blood, but as always the dice shall determine who gets it right and who is left bleeding out in the end.

More to the point, you can start to see ZAFT's machinations right now, and what the other nations are thinking of those machinations, and where there are small intelligence goofs on all sides. The critical factor here is that Durandal knows the Earth Alliance is not in a position to annihilate a nursing home right now, so they have breathing room to implement more permanent solutions to their overarching problems. Orb may be caught out of place to make any major implementations, but you can see the bare hints of them compensating for their shortfalls at the moment. Even the Magi did not become a Star Empire overnight, it took centuries for them to begin pushing those borders, but that brings Mendel's position to question: what are they thinking, and what are they planning?

There will be some more hints of those long-term goals to come, and a look at skyrocketing blood pressures to come. NEXT UP: The negotiations begin in earnest as the war in South America takes its fateful twist. Alliances will be made and friendships challenged on the decks of a single Dropship, while the world below waits for the final curtain-call on more than a few issues, and the raising of the curtains on many more.

NOTICE: FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO MAY ASK, YES, THERE IS A CHAPTER OF ARCHANGEL'S AMAZING ADVENTURES IN BETA AT THIS TIME. As soon as my Beta gets it back to me, it will be released.

* * *

Review Replies:

Seven reviews for this past chapter, all those months ago. My, how time flies...

**Knives91**: It is more than just practice, among the Magi the law enforcement is the Military Police units. You are correct, though, it does serve as practice in the end :)

**FraserMage**: I had to change the timeframe for this chapter, so the aforementioned tank will be showing its stuff in the next two chapters or so. Of course, you are right, when they hit they are supremely deadly, but most of the missing can be passed off to craptastic training standards in the EA.

**Rickrolled**: I hope this chapter answers your outstanding questions, and gives you some extra food for thought :)

**Necroblade**: Apparently, one shot one kill on the last chapter, and the same here. Good help is much welcomed when I find it :) Enjoy your trip abroad, and I will probably have new chapters for you on the flip side.

**Knightowl 4183**: I fail to see how N-Jammers can defeat otherwise LOS weapons, laser rangefinding and targeting, and how technology would fall backwards in range given that the guns in use should be more powerful than modern-day equivalents.

**EtienneOfTheWestWind**: The dice have spoken, you can see in this chapter how the BC and LOGOS factions are beginning to lean, and what that means for the EA. Of course, Admiral Sutherland intends on giving the Magi hell regardless of how things shape up politically, so there is much variability in the way things shall come down the pipe. Stay tuned for more.

**Gatomon41**: NP on the AWOL, it happens. You can rest assured the dice have been brought back in line, but they will get some workout still. You can even see hints of their actions here, Wayne almost made it out of that fracas unscathed...almost. The thing is, though, the death of a character takes a seriously bad _group_ of rolls to occur, and there has to be significant, evident chance of lethality at the time. Someone is not going to just drop dead at random because the dice came up skulls, not even I am that cruel. And thanks for the correction on Bavarian Fire Drills. I always get Bavaria and Bolivia screwed up, even though I know they are on two separate continents.

THANK YOU ALL for the reviews! After reading back through the reviews for JW and for AAA, I regained enough heart to get back into writing.

* * *

The Gripe Sheet: No active gripes for CH 14. Thanks to **Necroblade** for editing my prose and keeping me in line :)

* * *

Footnotes:

(1): **C-Check** is a type of heavy maintenance check. Basically, a C-Check is going over the plane or unit with a fine-tooth comb to make sure everything is ready and available. This is opposed to B-Checks and A-Checks, which are lesser inspection routines of critical systems but do not go into depth as would a C-Check.

(2): **Present** is the third step of five in a proper pistol draw. The full pattern is Grip – Draw – Present – Push Out – Aim. I have video on YT demonstrating the draw technique, and can do a full draw routine in less than a second. And I'm not police or military :)

(3): **M**obile **A**rmy **S**urgical **H**ospital – doctors to go, basically. For those of you who watched the 70s show of the same name, the Magi implementation of a MASH is wildly different from the television show, where the MASH is typically set up in a vehicle (the 40-ton Ophanim MASH vehicle is favored by the Magi, see stats below) though it can deploy into a tent city with triple the space available if time and secured area is available.

(4): **National Command Authority** usually refers to the head of state—in this case, Wayne Centara.

(5): Trial of Absorption is one of the seven Clan Rites of Combat, and is the second-most severe of the Trials. In a Trial of Absorption, the offending party is challenged for their possessions and personnel by the challenging party or parties, with two results. If the Challenging party wins (the side that started the Trial), the loser is absorbed into the ranks and possessions of the winning party. If the challengers lose, they are publicly and rather grossly humiliated by the fact that they started it and still lost, and the defenders may receive adjudicated compensation from Trial Command and may even be granted the right to launch their own Trial of Possession or Trial of Absorption. From a civilian standpoint, this is the most severe Rite of Combat available, as Trial of Annihilation is commonly reserved to the military only.

(6): In the Magi lands, there are three classifications of Eugenics Archives: **Probationary**, **Commercial**, and **Active**. A **Probationary** facility is one that is set up without prior approval or oversight, and though not technically illegal, if it is deemed 'outside operating parameters' of the Eugenics programs it may be shut down by the Master Archive Panel (the oversight authority for the Magi eugenic programs). A **Commercial** facility is an authorized (or 'naturalized' from probationary status) facility that is not controlled by the Magi government. Commercial facilities operate under the 'outside guidelines,' a detailing of bounds that are allowed for eugenic modification, and the Commercial facilities is where the bulk of the research and development actually occurs in the Eugenics arena. An **Active** facility is an authorized facility that operates under the control of the Magi government (Wilhelm was assigned to an Active Archive before being reassigned to the _Mjolnr_). Though not strictly as willing to push the bounds as Commercial ventures, the Active facilities are just as important as they serve the purpose of 'validation by repetition' for the advances made by the commercial outfits.

The largest of the Magi Genetic Archives is the Master Eugenic Archive on Terra-02. The sprawling facility occupies what was once the Minot Missile Base in North Dakota in the old United States territory. The facility has a canister count of 62,550, with common rotations of 10,450 per every two months, allowing each Canister set three months each year of downtime for maintenance and overhaul. The primary purpose of this facility, however, is maintaining active records and samples of all authorized genetic legacies in the Empire, a feat which dominates over 400 square kilometers of storage and server farms.

(7): **EL**ectronic **INT**elligence, the use of specialized assets to gather information from the enemy by way of their own electronics.

(8): **P/D/B** is a semi-official Psionic rating used among the Magi, though the Negaverse considers it holy writ. Nominally, it refers to **P**ower, **D**istance, and **B**roadcast. Psionics with high power can overcome passive or active psionic or Newtype defenses against telepathy and read surface thoughts. Distance is the key trait of the Strategic Psionics, the ability to read minds at interplanetary distances being the holy grail of their order. Broadcast is typically linked to the Distance Trait, but not always, and refers to the ability of a Psionic to be heard by non-Newtype and non-Psionic persons when effectively shouting one's head off on the Psionic wavelength. It is often said the best spies are high-power, medium-distance, low-broadcast Psionics, though this is often debated for various reasons.

(9): **Prox**imity.

* * *

LOGIC AND REASON:

* * *

TRO SECTION: For today, we look at a different aspect of the Magi mobile forces, the support personnel that are the true life-blood of a military. We examine in detail an unsung hero of the forces, the medical personnel, and their kickass wheels of mercy, the Ophanim MASH vehicle.

BattleTech Vehicle Technical Readout

VALIDATED

**Type/Model**: Ophanim MASH Vehicle

**Tech**: Mixed Tech / 3060

**Config**: Wheeled Vehicle

**Rules**: Level 3, Standard design

**Mass**: 40 tons

**Power Plant**: TelStar 180 Fusion (C)

**Cruise Speed**: 54.0 km/h

**Maximum Speed**: 86.4 km/h

**Armor Type**: Standard

**Armament**:  
None

**Manufacturer**: Catholic Engineering Association

**Location**: Multiple (Over 400 production facilities)

**Communications System**: Angel-302A Enhanced Comm Uplink

**Targeting & Tracking System**: None

* * *

==Overview:==

With the onset of the Star Empire Wars and its included brutal combat practices, a shocking trend came to be seen among the after-action reports from the battlefields. Because the Magi's medical rapid-response infrastructure relied on outdated, often hazardous methods for getting to the wounded and evacuating them, many soldiers were dying that otherwise should have survived their injuries had appropriate help been available.

A call went up among the various armor manufacturers to build an appropriate mobile MASH vehicle. Many designs were submitted, but most suffered the same flaws that were crippling the existing MASH units: either the vehicles were too expensive and complicated to do the job needed, or they lacked the necessary capabilities to do the job properly. In due time, however, one candidate came forward from the pack of designs submitted, and from the most unlikely of sources ever expected: the Catholic Church.

Almost destroyed by the Nazi, Imperial Japanese, and Soviet occupations of the bulk of Terra Two in the years prior to the Magi Revolution, the Catholic Church weathered its blows in relative silence for centuries after the Empire was founded, eventually gaining back some of the ground it had lost in the attempted purges. The Church had regained most of its strength in the years prior to the Divine Wars, where again it was subjected to attempted annihilation, this time at the hands of the Greek Gods. Once again, the oppressors failed to do the job right, and in due time the Church was once again at nominal strength, but had almost no influence in the new Magi system, just existed as a religion and nothing more. When the Star Empire Wars broke out, the Church was the first to notice that more soldiers were failing to come back than needed to fall, this even before official analysis saw the problem for what it was.

When the call went up to engineer a newer, more capable MASH vehicle, a Cardinal on Terra Two saw where there was a place for the ministrations of the church once again: saving those who would otherwise be lost. At much personal hazard of financial ruin, the Cardinal purchased a small engineering firm not far from the Magi Administration Building and set his newly-acquired business the task of producing a MASH vehcile capable of getting into rough spots, evacuating the wounded, and getting out. Nothing else was mentioned in the capabilities, and that is exactly what was designed by the newly-renamed Catholic Engineering Association. When the trials were held for the MASH vehicles, the simplicity, ruggedness, and no-frills design built by the Catholics won the contract.

Thus was born the Ophanim, named after the Christian angels said to be the 'wheels of God's throne'.

==Capabilities:==

Simply stated, the Ophanim exists for one purpose: mobile medical evacuation and treatment. It is engineered to fulfill this task and none other, and that simplicity is what has made this vehicle an instant favorite with the Magi and any force lucky enough to purchase or capture them.

Built on a very rugged 40-ton wheeled chassis (which also lent it the name Ophanim), the Ophanim makes the best use of its most extravagant feature, the TelStar 180 Fusion Engine that gives it impressive speed for a vehicle with its tasking. Defensively, the Ophanim is nothing spectacular, boasting enough armor to withstand a few hits or some splash damage from bombs or artillery, but being a clearly-marked noncombatant it is not normally subjected to hostile action in the same fashion as cooling vehicles. So long as an Ophanim driver does not do anything stupid, he or she can be reasonably assured they won't be shot at.

The main and most outstanding feature of the three-axle Ophanim is the ten-theater MASH unit on the back of the vehicle. The Catholics specifically engineered the operating wards so that half of the facilities could be usable while the vehicle is still in motion, allowing for treatment of critical casualties while in route to a more secured location. This has resulted in Ophanim being thought of as a combination ambulance and mobile hospital, though the vehicle becomes more effective if it can stop and deploy all its equipment for casualty treatment. Of related note, the rearmost portion of the Ophanim is a cargo bay capable of carrying up to four tons of relief supplies or a maximum of 28 casualty litters, or other cargo as needed. This combination allows the Ophanim to transport over a star of injured Infantry from the battlefield when needed, a capability that has saved countless lives.

The most interesting and seemingly random feature added to the Ophanim was the one device that turned out to be the critical selling point of the vehicle. Few of the designs included bulldozer blades on their designs, and this turned out to be a much welcomed feature of the new MASH vehicle. With the capability of clearing a path through rubble and rough terrain left by the ravages of war, the Ophanim was seen as a vehicle that could blaze a path to cut-off forces and rescue the wounded when needed. In practice, this has happened more times than even the manufacturer assumed would ever be possible, and has been counted as saving lives on a scale not even dreamed of.

The final selling point of the Ophanim is the cost of the unit. At 980,000 C-bills per copy, the vehicle is extremely inexpensive and quite literally costs less than the people working in it or the people it frequently rescues. From a return on investment standpoint, the Ophanim easily returns its cost normally in the first operation a new vehicle is deployed in. This has assured it a long service life with the Magi and with other entities that have captured or purchased the Ophanim.

==Battle History:==

As an unarmed support vehicle, the Ophanim has gained no real apropos as a direct force combatant, but in the annals of history it has seen its share of hot action over the years.

One of the most widely-traded tales among Ophanim drivers is of the Forest Rebellion on Somerset 344, where a fringe ecoterrorist group declared war on the Empire for 'harming the forests with monorail construction', completely discounting the fact that the Engineers assigned to the build were planting two new trees for each removed. Even given the Magi tendency of coming down swiftly on terrorist organizations, this rebellion had a very short lifespan due mostly to a freak encounter on the part of an Ophanim MASH vehicle. On a rescue call to the main Engineer office in the capital city on Somerset, Ophanim 226941 was confronted by a cell of the terrorists armed with captured support lasers. The driver had tried stopping, knowing his purpose was to do no harm, but 40 tons of vehicle doing 85 kilometers per hour does not exactly stop on a dime. The bulldozer blade plowed through the rebel cell and killed all but two of them, leaving the other two severely injured. One of the injured happened to be the leader of the rebellion, though this was not found out for some weeks as he was comatose from the initial impact. Without their leader, the rebellion fell back on an incompetent sub-commander who managed to maneuver the ecoterrorists into oblivion before his CO was even out of the coma. With the Trial of Annihilation resolved before the nature of the comatose victim was known, he was simply sentenced to 150 years term of bond as a casualty assistant on the Ophanim that had barreled him down.

Though practically unheard as a combat asset, the Ophanim has earned a passage in the Remebrance. See the notable vehicles and crew section for further details.

==Variants:==

The Ophanim itself has no variants, per se, though the frame has been licensed to a separate corporation for use as a cargo transport.

==Notable Vehicles & Crew:==

Ophanim 1625660

The 'Lucky Six-Ought,' as was called by its crew, made itself a legend by the combination of luck, bravery, and determination that characterizes the Ophanim crews altogether.

Attached to the 6384th Provisional Assault Trinary (Infantry / Mages) during the battles on Galdesse 880 in the Quater War, the Lucky Six-Ought had been reassigned to the headquarters command because the Support Mages of the 6384 could handle the unit's medical needs, if any. For a time, the Ophanim cruised the battle lines of other formations and collected the wounded or the deceased and shuttled them back to other medical assets, though always with an ear to the radio in case their assigned unit needed help. For three weeks, the only reports coming from the 6384 was how much ass they were kicking up and down the Negaverse OrBat, though on the 23rd day of the battle this changed abruptly. The Negaverse command assets had managed to get a sneak attack on the 6384th by way of a suborbital laser strike, a blow that caused horrendous casualties even against the Armored Infantry and Combat Mages of the Trinary. Headquarters immediately ordered the Lucky Six-Ought into the engagement area to recover survivors, and without hesitation the Ophanim was in route.

The MASH vehicle braved three artillery salvos in route to the objective, then had to plow through a downed lumber mill to get to the survivors, who had taken position in the ruins as a defensive measure against oncoming Negaverse Grenadiers. The one remaining Combat Mage in the unit assisted the Ophanim crew in collecting the wounded and deceased, all the while supporting his comrades who were still heavily engaged by the Negaverse troops. The Ophanim pulled out immediately thereafter, swearing to return to collect more, though it would be the transit back to medical HQ that set the urgency. One of the recovered Infantrymen, badly injured by the initial naval strike, kept repeating 'save the Emperor,' which the MedTechs passed off as delirium from his injuries. A second wounded soldier, who had been knocked unconscious during the fighting but recovered in transit, demanded that she be returned to the battlefield 'because she was not going to abandon the Emperor while she lived'. When convinced that she had been ordered med-evac by the unit commander, and that the crew of the Ophanim had not seen the Emperor there, the soldier informed the vehicle's crew chief that _the Combat Mage who helped them recover casualties was the Emperor, operating with the 6384th under cover_.

When the Lucky Six-Ought arrived at Medical HQ, they quickly unloaded their recoveries and the crew chief shanghaied a nearby Mechanized Infantry unit for a 'special operation'. Knowing that lives were at stake if the MedTechs were requesting assistance, the Armored Infantry mounted up without hesitation and followed the Ophanim back into the killing zone. Again, the vehicles passed through several belts of artillery, including a Thumper shell that landed close enough to tear a chunk out of the side of the MASH vehicle, wounded two of the crew and killed two MedTechs, but both made it to the ruins otherwise intact. At this time, the remaining soldiers of the 6384th had been heavily engaged by Negaverse Grenadiers and helicopter support, but the appearance of the Ophanim and five Field Mouse Light APCs full of pissed-off Armored Marines set their assault plans back. The Infantry dismounted and set up a perimeter while the Field Mouse APCs engaged the helicopters with laser fire, downing two helos and driving the remainder out of engagement range. The MedTechs moved in to collect the remaining wounded, which by this time also included the aforementioned Combat Mage and the rest of the 6384th except for two lucky Panzergrenadier Armored Infantry thus far uninjured. The combined units withdrew from the area, but not before the wounded Emperor demonstrated his real skills in a single spell, one weave of distortion that brought one of the wounded MedTechs of the Lucky Six-Ought back from the edge of death.

Little was said of the rescue mission, as reports of what happened that day were drowned out in the din of the fierce fighting on Galdesse. However, the Emperor recognized when someone had acted for the good of others, knowing full well that they were violating policy and ran the risk of getting themselves killed in the process. Of the crew, only two knew who they were going in to rescue, one of whom died in the rescue operation without having told anyone else, the other died on the operating table on the way back from the rescue. The unit was awarded the Order of the Star with repeat cluster, posthumously in the case of the deceased, but even that was a pale honor to the incredible chance they took or their final and everlasting accolade. A verse, written into the Remebrance by the Emperor himself, to this day speaks volumes of the often unsung heroes of the battlefields:

_They three, Ophanim of name and purpose, _(Referring to the crew size of the Ophanim, three persons (driver, radio operator, crew chief))  
_Carrying on divine wheels the hopes and  
__Prayers of the common soldier; Recourse _('Recourse of naught' meaning the vehicle is unarmed and even the crews usually are unarmed)  
_Of naught in battle, honored only for life.  
They tread where others have fled, seeking  
Only to evacuate those sundered and bleeding;  
A single rescue, Lucky Six-Ought._

==Deployment==

The Ophanim is literally seen everywhere the Magi armed forces go. In common practice, one Ophanim is assigned to each Trinary, with an additional star of Ophanim assigned to every Cluster and Galaxy. At the Century level, a Medical Command Trinary is typically attached to the formation, with the Ophanim normally accounting for half the command vehicles. Legion formations will normally have a Medical Command Cluster administrative attached to the formation, allowing for increased casualty handling at all levels.

* * *

**Type/Model**: Ophanim MASH Vehicle

**Mass**: 40 tons

**Construction Options**: Fractional Accounting

**Equipment**:  
Items, Mass

**Int. Struct**.: 16 pts Standard  
0, 4.00

**Engine**: 180 Fusion  
0, 7.00

**Shielding & Transmission Equipment**:  
0, 3.50

**Cruise MP**: 5

**Flank MP**: 8

**Heat Sinks**: 10 Single  
0, 0.00

**Cockpit & Controls**:  
0, 2.00

**Crew**: 3 Members  
0, .00

**Armor Factor**: 80 pts Standard (IS)  
0, 5.00

Internal Structure, Armor Value

Front: 4, 25

Left / Right Sides: 4, 20/20

Rear: 4, 15

* * *

**Weapons and Equipment**  
Loc, Heat, Ammo, Items, Mass

1 C.A.S.E. Equipment  
Body, 0, 0 .00

1 Bulldozer  
Front, 0, 0, 1, 2.00

1 MASH Unit (10 Theaters)  
Rear, 0, 0, 10, 12.50

Cargo Bay Capacity  
Body, 0, 0, 1, 4.00

* * *

**TOTALS**:  
0 Heat  
12 Items  
40.00 Tons

**Items & Tons Left**: 1, 0.00

**Calculated Factors**:

**Total Cost**: 978,000 C-Bills

**Battle Value**: 89

**Cost per BV**: 10,988.76

**Weapon Value**: 0 / 0 (Ratio = .00 / .00)

**Damage Factors**:  
SRDmg = 0;  
MRDmg = 0;  
LRDmg = 0

**BattleForce2**:

MP: 5W, Armor/Structure: 0 / 3

Damage PB/M/L: -/-/-, Overheat: 0

Class: GM; Point Value: 1

Specials: tran4, eng, mash


	16. Games Without Frontiers

(Legend Of The Jokers Wild, Set 1, Chapter 16: Games Without Frontiers)  
(19 November CE 71, 0900 Hours UTC)

Because Wayne and Gerald were now headed out to the _Sailboat Reborn_ to conduct the negotiations, along with a smattering of various other officers from the Mendel forces, Calamira now had command authority in the colony. This also meant she had to issue the marching orders when necessary; all the more so when the Star Admiral had ordered her to move on an issue with the utmost of speed.

"Star Commander Tiffany and four, reporting as ordered, milady," the officer that had entered said as she came to attention.

"Grab some seats, this will take a while," Calamira ordered. She kept five folding chairs in her office, of the type with the padded seats that did not instantly numb the arse of the occupant, though only three were needed when the Star Commander and her Star Second took seats in the regular chairs.

To Calamira, the five persons in the room were an extreme oddity. Having spent almost all her career in _Phalanx_-class Warships and the bulk of it on the _Mjolnr_ specifically, she did not get much opportunity to meet with Battlemech pilots, and had even less opportunity to meet with more traditional Ground Armor, Artillery, and Ground Support forces. In all real terms, Calamira was a naval specialist by duty, not necessarily by choice; this despite the fact that she was supposed to be conversant in all manner of military operations. Still and all, the armpatch on the five in front of her, the eponymous Timber Wolf Omnimech, declared that all five were Mechwarriors through and through. That, perversely, made them perfect for the job at hand.

"Milady, if this is about that puke Deke in Third Trinary, he had it coming to him—"

"And more is the better that you sorted that shit out early," Calamira replied, instantly informing the unit that this was not an administrative punishment action. "Such foul depredations should not even be spoken of, much less planned or attempted as he did. More is the better that your pistol quals are up to date, I daresay." The shot that had stopped Deke cold before he could do what he planned had been taken within a meter of the intended victim. "The lady involved, how is she?"

"She's going through the psych wringer for seeing an attempted rapist shot dead that close to her, but being alive beats the hell out of the alternative, quiaff?"

"Oh yes, I know this well," Calamira replied, having one attempted rapist on her record as well. That such incidents were increasing in frequency was telltale that the Empire was slowly losing its edge from the heyday of years past. "Regardless, this meeting has nothing to do with that incident. Officially, CC Lightbringer has some 'attaboy' papers for you, and will probably be awarding them after he returns from negotiating an official truce. The reason why your Star is here is simple," and Calamira opened a folder on her desk with a set of five papers. She held the top one up for them to see. "Recognize these?"

"Oh, our Release to Mercenary Contract papers?" Tiffany replied. "You mean someone wants a little help down below?"

"I figured yours would be the right unit for the job, given how fast you can think and act on it. The Boss says you five can run official purchases on your Omnimechs, given you have enough credit built up to cover a fifty-percent down payment on the machines, and quartermaster support can be done through regular sub-contracting channels."

"That's good," the fire support officer in the unit replied. "So, what's the job?"

"You are going to guard a veritable floating island; one that just so happens to be highly mobile and rather valuable due to a certain structure on it," Calamira prompted, attempting to see what kind of reaction she would get out of them.

"The Gigafloat? It's mobile, why do they need a guard?" The skirmisher in their unit replied.

"Simple, it is mobile but has only a quarter of the speed of the slowest Earth Alliance surface ships. It can run, but it can't escape and it can't hide. Given that the Earth Alliance has lost their Porta Panama and Kaoshung Mass Drivers, the Junk Guild believes it very likely that the Earth Alliance may attempt to take the Gigafloat in an attempt to increase their cross-ASI (1) mobility without a huge outlay of manpower or money to rebuild their damaged facilities."

"Lazy bastards," Tiffany replied snidely. "At least we have the sense to rebuild our facilities before we attack a resource and salvage contractor that we do business with."

"They are rational, within limits, Star Commander," Calamira replied. "We do know they have a serious hard-on for us, and it is fairly well demonstrated they have one for ZAFT. From a political standpoint, it is a severe humiliation to the Earth Alliance and BC that they have real enemies languishing up here and can't do a damned thing about it. They may view the ability to get back at us more valuable than continued relations with the Junk Guild, or they may consider that the Junk Guild would take the hit to continue trade relations with the largest state in the earth sphere."

"If those political hacks think that, I would like the address of their hallucinogen supplier. Or politicians can fuck anything up four times faster than a specialist, whichever applies." Tiffany completed the circle of logic. The problem with such a case of 'hard-on syndrome' was simple: once you got off the planet, you had to do something about your foes, which the EA had proved themselves singularly unable to do thus far. "Begging your pardon, milady."

"If that is the worst I hear today, so much the better," Calamira retorted fairly. "Your base contract is for nine months with options to renew in three-month increments, one hundred fifty thousand C-bills equivalent per month, which should be more than enough to cover maintenance and salary, with a little profit left over for your unit. There are full facilities on the Gigafloat, medical, recreational, and dining; access to those facilities are included."

"Erm, you do know that 'Mechs don't play well in water without UMU units?" the fire support pilot asked.

"You drive an Omnimech, quiaff? Blood Asp, if I remember correctly," Calamira prompts.

"Aff, milady," the pilot replied.

"I think you can figure out where this one is going," Calamira replied. The officer in question merely nodded his head, since he knew now what she meant by a detail for Omnimechs; they would need to add UMU units to a custom loadout for each of their machines. "Regardless, you will be on-site with at least one other mercenary unit, Serpent Tail. They have limited underwater capability as well, so you will not be going in the drink without assistance, should it be necessary. In all likelihood, any actions taken against the Gigafloat are likely to be surface actions, so sticking to base variants or custom pod configurations of your machines should do the trick." Calamira passed out the contract forms. "This is your assignment paperwork, should you choose to accept."

"No way in hell I would skip out," Tiffany replied. "Like the profit margin, as well. We'll have to work our asses off, one star on a mobile island of this size is not a huge amount of personnel to operate, but I think we can work something out. Do we have any reciprocal unit support agreements?"

"Unfortunately not," Calamira answered. "It is very likely that any outside support from non-mercenary assets would be considered a provocation to war, regardless of what Star League policies are in effect on this contract. Your Star and one Star of Marines is all that will be going and all that you will have."

"Marine support?" Calamira nodded to their artillery pilot. "Nice, always good to sortie with Jarheads along for the ride. Where do we sign?"

"Right here," and Calamira presented each of the five a contract for the job. Each took their time to read it thoroughly, but within fifteen minutes all five of them had signed off. Less than a minute later, they were out the door with orders to be on a Dropship headed planet-side without further ado. Of course, this meant moving their 'mechs through the colony to the planet-side dockyard, but that was a simple administrative exercise for the pilots. However, due to the negotiations, their departure would be delayed until mid-day on the 20th and the DropShip captain didn't want their 'mechs in the way while he was loading, etc., etc., and all the pilots could do was groan at what a clusterfuck their contract had degenerated into.

For Calamira, the one remaining question was simple. "Why did they keep calling me 'milady'?" she asked nobody in particular. Others had said the same, but it wasn't common...

-x-x-x-

(19 November CE 71, 1930 hours)  
(Nearby Dropship _Sailboat Reborn_)

"Helm, Conn, match velocity and heading to the Dropship," Star Commodore Jim Tilgeis ordered of his ship's pilot.

"Conn, Helm, aye," the Helmsman immediately began entering the commands to match to the _Sailboat Reborn_. Thirty seconds later: "Conn, Helm, we are three minutes to full match with target ship."

"The Earth Alliance makes an impressive showing," the Star Commodore declared, nodding out the front view-screen toward the Earth Alliance mooring.

"That must be the _Ophanim_, fourth of the line of _Archangel_-class ships," Star Admiral Centara replied. "Paint still looks fresh."

"They have barely had time to shake it down, much less blow-dry their paint job and give it a good wax coat," Gerald added sardonically.

"I wouldn't want to take it into battle until the bugs were beat out," the Star Commodore replied. "Wonder why they brought it here?"

"It's the only toy in their arsenal worth what they paid for it," Wayne replied. "And all intel reports suggest that they know the _Archangels_ are something we don't like seeing pointed at us."

"Wonder how long before ZAFT gets that hint," Gerald added.

"Well, it looks impressive, at the least," Star Commodore Tilgeis replied. "And those _Agamemnon_-class escorts with it aren't exactly a breath of fresh air, but less a threat than the flag ship."

"Keep an eye on them, Jim," Gerald ordered. "What's your flight readiness?"

"I have fifteen fighters on +2 launch status at all times, fifteen at +4 status, fifteen at +6, and the rest at +10. If they fart in our general direction, their lives will get very exciting very quickly." This fact included the unstated addendum that after those lives got exciting fast, they would be drastically and violently shortened.

"Roger that," Gerald replied. What the Star Commodore meant was that a fifth of his fighters were ready to launch in two minutes or less (pilots waiting in the cockpit, usually reading or doing sims), a fifth were ready to launch in four minutes or less (pilots situated in the ready room, reading or video gaming), a third group of fighters ready at six minutes (pilots in quarters nearby the hangars), and the rest could be ready in ten minutes (off-duty personnel). For a ship with only seventy-five fighters onboard, that meant the pilots he was operating were hardasses through and through to be able to maintain that kind of readiness schedule and maintain operating efficiency.

"Shall we?" Wayne asked.

"Lead the way, boss-man." Without further ado, the two officers left the bridge. "By the by, who flies today?"

"Doesn't bother me," Wayne replied before thumbing open the shuttle launch bay crew entry.

"Let the craft crew drive?" Gerald finally offered.

"Works for me," the Star Admiral replied. "Which small craft is up right now?" he asked of the crew waiting in the ready room.

"Both, sir, but only the number two shuttle has embarked Marines," the senior of the two shuttle commanders replied immediately.

"Good, number one it will be. No need to add more Marines to the equation."

"Roger that," half the crewmembers in the room stood up. The shuttle commander tripped the launch prep alarm for the number one shuttle, which also opened the crew and passenger access causeway.

Wayne and Gerald were the last on the shuttle. Wayne had never been on the Globetrotter Marine dropshuttle before; Gerald was reminded of the unpleasant experience to come. "I never got used to flying unarmored in these things," the Century Commander muttered.

"Oh yeah, no padding on these seats, this is going to be interesting," Wayne replied in a droll monotone.

"And the charge bars, of course," Gerald replied, pointing to the devices that looked to be custom-designed to torture a passenger. "Let's hope this driver isn't one for hammering the gas on the way out." The charge bars were a series of metal posts built into the seats, not necessarily for bracing the Marines, but for charging up the life support and power capacitors in the Marine armor. They could be used for a makeshift seat back, if one ignored the sharp pains from the connection hardware.

While Wayne and Gerald found comfortable ways to seat themselves, the crew prepared the launch procedures. Outside the ship, all the launches of the day were radioed ahead to the _Sailboat Reborn_, where a flight control crew comprised of mostly Junk Guild personnel managed all movement of craft in proximity to the ship, to prevent misunderstandings among the various otherwise hostile parties. This made things a lot simpler and safer for the parties going to and from their ships or the negotiating grounds. Within minutes, clearance was given for the launch, and the shuttle was eased out of the ship to head over to the _Sailboat Reborn_.

After the launch, Gerald and Wayne went forward to the flight deck to watch the trip. "Nice paint job on the _Ophanim_," the Commander of the shuttle commented after Wayne entered the flight deck. "What do you think, Star Admiral?"

"I think they got the message when we didn't ransom back the _Dominion_ and _Thrones_," Wayne replied. "Of course, for them to get anywhere in a naval sense, they need to eliminate most the small ships and build up a core of the larger, more advanced fleet units."

"That _Girty Lue_-class worth anything? All I heard was it's got Mirage Colloid and six Gottfried sets, anything else?" the copilot asked.

"Carry for a dozen MS or Gundams, VLS missile block, decent engines for short-haul work, but other than that not much. It does cost less per craft than the _Archangel_-class, but there's no telling how effective it would be in a run-and-gun naval action," Gerald commented. Of course he did not tell how that information had been developed, and after a fashion nobody on the flight deck wanted to know. Some things would be better left unsaid, in their collective opinion.

"It'll be a few before we touch down on the Dropship, you may want to fold down those jump seats, boss," the flight engineer reported. "They want us to take our time landing the craft, less chance of problems for the deck crew."

"True. Who's in so far for the first day?" Gerald asked.

"Orb, Junk Guild, Scandinavia. EA has already reported they are waiting to deploy tomorrow, same with ZAFT."

"And the _Archangel_?" Wayne asked, eying said ship through the front screen.

"Oh yes, they are already onboard," the commander replied. The bent of his tone was answer enough.

"Give her appropriate dues for her intention, Commander," Gerald replied. "Nobody wants a war, but there are more sensible ways to go about ensuring no further contest."

-x-x-x-

(20 November CE 71, 0100 hours)  
(Brazil territory, western reaches, USSA)

It had not taken Edward Harrelson much in the way of imagination to figure out what the enemy command intended with the constant patrols of F-7D Spearhead fighters with external fuel tanks and RAVEN gear. "They ain't doing drug interdiction patrols," Rico noted sourly as one of the F-7D planes could be heard flying a patrol well north of them.

"The Earth Alliance is not stupid, just taciturn," Edward noted. Right now the enemy would not be able to find them, all electronic gear was shut off for the time being. "The enemy command element is getting some good coaching from on high, probably that bastard Sutherland." Despite his mostly professional demeanor, Ed could hardly hide his contempt for the racist Admiral. "However, they're looking in the wrong places for us, on the presumption that we would attack the main garrison at Manaus, not the secondary staging facilities at Boa Vista in the north or Apui in the south. As long as they hold that notion in mind, the advantage is ours."

"Coffee, boss?" one of the technicians asked, waving a coffee can in his general direction.

"Always," Ed replied with a smile.

"Well, boss, you think we can make it?" Samuel asked in the silence thereafter.

"I think so. Just so long as that storm front doesn't speed up." Ed was referring to a new squall line that had just come ashore in Brazil and was making for Colombia by way of the area they had to march through. "Of course, the longer it hangs over their reinforcements, the more likely they are going to get bogged down, so..."

"Yeah, everyone says the weather is neutral, but I think it is God's way of showing solicitude to the righteous," Rico replied gruffly.

"May be," Ed replied. "By the time we're dead enough to ask God Himself whether he plays the weather for one side or another, or if it is truly neutral, we're too dead to tell the rest of the world the answer."

The sheer absurdity of Ed's comment was so shocking as to cause half the persons around the fire pit to gag on their coffee.

-x-

(Earth Alliance Main Garrison, Brazil)

"Bah!" Major General Wayans slammed the map table hard enough to cause all four legs to creak in protest. "Whoever said the weather was neutral should be exhumed and shot to verify he is dead!"

In the Earth Alliance Southern Operations Headquarters, several large-denomination bills traded hands among the various staff officers. The outstanding bets covered several subjects, but most of them hinged on the weather and specifically the perverse timing of the massive low-pressure system that just entered Brazil. At least two of those bets covered the reaction of the Major General to said weather system. And one bet, as yet unconfirmed, covered weather the map table would survive the night.

"It could be worse, sir," the Colonel in charge of Corps G-2 replied.

"It IS worse, Colonel," Buzz Wayans replied harshly. "This same system is making it hell for the RAVEN flights to fan out and track the rebels that are assuredly marching for us right now. If this shit keeps up, our first warning they are coming will be the destruction of our perimeter sentry posts."

"Should we move out some forward recon assets to protect the likely avenues of approach?" his G-3 (Operations) officer requested.

"Yeah, move out three battalions and array them west of the base at twenty-kilometer intervals. Make sure they have field phones to call back to the base if they encounter something, we don't want them listening in on our radio chatter." One of the big problems the Earth Alliance had heard loud and clear during the battle of Jachin Due was the relative ease Mendel had cracked their tactical radios. The way Mendel had announced that breach of Earth Alliance security had been a stroke of pure genius...that blew Mendel's own foot off all the same. By jamming the Earth Alliance tactical frequencies open and blaring metal music on the radio bands, they had succeeded in crippling C3 (2) throughout the entire Peacemaker force, yet in so doing the Magi had perversely announced they compromised the Earth Alliance radios and thereby tipped their hand. Thus, the Earth Alliance had revisited the concept of land-line communications for static formations and began reissuing field phone sets to every headquarters unit to prevent another communication jam. At least on Earth, there would be little to no chance of interference or interception of tactical and strategic communications.

"Will do, sir," the G-3 officer replied before he began issuing orders to his subordinates.

"Damn," and again the Major General slammed the table. "I wish this storm had waited a week. Then it could have watered the flowers on the rebellion's grave."

-x-

(20 November CE 71, 0100 hours Lima (Brazil), 19 November CE 71, 2100 hours UTC (Mendel))  
(Mendel Administration Building, 10th floor)

"So, we have confirmation that this storm is delaying the reinforcements as expected?" Calamira requested of the rotating intelligence analyst for the day, a Star Captain of Aerofighters when not playing spook.

"Indeed, already their forces are bogged down in the approach march, and I don't see them getting on site before the 23rd at the absolute earliest given present conditions."

"Hmm," Calamira was looking at the map of Brazil that was being holoprojected in her office. "Force correlations?"

"As it stands, and given the expected delay of forces for the EA, all correlations and observed movements are in the rebel's favor. Not by much, and certainly not enough to guarantee success, but smart money is on la resistance."

The Analyst's voice said enough. "You want to be down there, I take it?"

"I would relish such a battle," the Aerofighter pilot replied serenely. "They are a horde with atrocities confirmed on their record, starting with George Glenn, peaking at Junius Seven, and the most recent being that hard stop to peaceful demonstrations in East Asia." Said incident had been sorted out with a pair of 12.7mm machine guns, and analysis of the news footage showed at least 47 dead, with another 6 possibly dead and at least 31 severely wounded, and that was just from the two crew trucks involved. The protest had stopped not long thereafter, mostly because the Earth Alliance had proven once again that lives were valued less than the appearance of order, with the use of machine guns and assault rifles being the answer de rigeur to dissenters. The incident had disgusted many, but few had spoken out; such was the fear factor of the Earth Alliance.

"I can sympathize, but this is just one battle in what threatens to be a long, slow, protracted war." Calamira sighed mightily. "We can fight the first few, and therefore tip our hand to our foes now; we can hold our cards close and watch the indecision dance in their eyes, never knowing when or where the knife shall find their back." It was the old crux of warfare at a higher level: does one act now and risk the preemption of the enemy, or does one bide their time on the hope of a better opportunity to strike later? Calamira had long ago decided that the most opportune strike would be in the not-too-distant future, given that Mendel would grow at a rate insulting to the Earth Alliance, and with it the military capable of hammering them flat.

"Duly noted, milady," the semi-chastised Aerofighter pilot replied. Again Calamira noticed the unusual suffix, but said nothing.

"Still and all, it would be nice to have a Strategic Mage on deck, to whip up that squall line into a serious storm, that it may hammer on the Earth Alliance pukes and therefore assist the rebels in the coming battle. Yet another failing of the Admiralty Review." Calamira's comment was predicated on the fact that a decent Strategic Mage could just as easily intensify a storm threefold as he or she could kill the storm off outright, either case being a technically simple exercise for such a Mage.

"The weather is only neutral to those who believe it to be," the Star Captain replied with a grim chuckle. "To the Magi, it is a treasured ally, just as is every other natural element."

"Seyla," Calamira replied. She could have trained in Mage talents, but she decided that further study in strategic disciplines was more fitting to her ideal placement in the Fleets. She had been both correct and wrong in making such a choice, though she only saw the error of her choice after the jump accident that brought the _Mjolnr_ to CE-era Terra. To her credit, however, she never fully grasped the significance of her extended strategic studies, and how they were doing more faster than any wizard skills may have been able to help. "For today, it is in Fate's hands. We can only pray for the good fortunes of the rebels."

-x-x-x-

(20 November CE 71, 0800 hours UTC)  
(Dropship _Sailboat Reborn_, Crew Deck 2 Lounge Area (converted))

'Institutional distrust' would have been the most polite way to phrase the atmosphere in the room. Other variants were echoing the course inside the heads of the other heads of state in the room, of that Wayne was sure. Truth be told, Wayne did not trust half of the people at the table, and with one exception genuinely disliked the remainder. Something about politicians immediately set off all his red flags, and Wayne was the kind of person to heed the red flags when they flew.

Still and all, this was the great payoff of the combat action that was now being called the Second Battle of Jachin Due. The chance for at least an official peace between the major players, if not an actual one. There would be terrorist cells operating for years to come, but with the proper wording of the documents to come the actual military forces would be out of the game for now. For the Magi, that was as much a payoff as anything that could be won in battle; after having seen one major interdimensional war (whereby said war was longer than half of recorded history on this planet) and innumerable minor fracases, the Magi wanted to avoid repeats wherever possible.

The first step: getting the sides to at least stack arms for today.

"This negotiation is now called to order," Wayne began once the representatives of Scandinavia took their seats. "The Kingdom of Scandinavia has fronted an initial proposal for a full treatise of peace. You may open and review them now."

Almost as one, the various organization leaders and heads of state picked up the blunted letter openers and sliced through the sealing tape that ran the perimeter of the folders. Because this was not Wayne's normal method of opening or reading documents, he was the last to crack his folder and begin reading, as well as the last to complete reading. When he set his folder down, a quick glance around the room told enough of a tale. Not long thereafter, those who were taking a few moments to reread certain sections of the document had also closed their folders.

"We shall begin with the party that qualifies for aggrieved status under the Geneva Convention regulations on the declaration or commencement of war, in this case the Zodiac Alliance of Freedom Treaty."

Eileen Canaver nodded. "ZAFT wishes to propose a pair of non-proliferation clauses for certain technologies known to be in use at present. Foremost, the Neutron Jammer Canceler must be quashed; their use on nuclear armaments is too great a threat to anyone, planetside or out in space." The comment drew not even a token protest from the gathered persons, and was something Wayne expected. Neutron Jammers could be dealt with in due course, but at present they served a decent purpose in preventing 95 percent of existing nuclear weapons on planet from being used – no N-Jammer canceler, no boom, in other words.

"The request is noted and will be considered in due course," Wayne replied. "Please continue."

"Second, as the Magi have demonstrated a frightening capability of weapons that can completely bypass the Neutron Jammer, antimatter weapons specifically. A non-proliferation agreement for antimatter technology must be established for your remaining capability."

Wayne nodded; he intended just that, and putting it in treaty made it a rather permanent injunction to an otherwise internal policy. "This will also be reviewed and implemented in due course." Wayne was silent for a moment, considering the tact of his next statement. "Off the record, I want to make it clear that it took the Magi two thousand years and about a billion dead personnel to get antimatter technologies right, and that in both civilian and military applications. I advise any interested parties to spend research funds elsewhere, antimatter can put holes in planets far more readily than just about any other material known to Existence." Someone loosed a low whistle at such a revelation; Wayne thought it was the Professor, the representative of the Junk Guild. "Back on the record, does ZAFT have any other extensions or requests to make?"

"ZAFT has no further requests at this time," Eileen replied, significantly appalled at the body count for such a technology. For certain, no nation or organization present had that kind of resource to pay for such a capability, despite how effective it would be in slagging down the other side.

"Very well, at this time we will commence with open forum, clockwise from the randomly-generated zero position, which is..." Wayne lifted up the concealed listing of positions, which seemed a strange way to do negotiations to most of the persons there. "Equatorial is the zero position for the day." This also meant that the next in the forum was the Earth Alliance, which made Chairman Riseman feel slightly better about the negotiations. If a foe was obviously trying to screw the Earth Alliance, they would be at least squelched here, if not outright silenced, and so far no evidence of that kind of action was visible. "Representative, if you will?"

The Equatorial Union representative drew in a significant breath. He was not the EU head of state, a constitutional monarchy by charter, but he was a Prince and a brother to the reigning Queen, giving him a bit of clout. Calamira had given Wayne no forewarning on the Equatorial position, so all of the forthcoming would be new to Wayne. After a fashion, it was a bit of a challenge, since he had to wing it. "The Equatorial Union would like to remind all parties that the initial crux of the ongoing conflict is an outstanding debate as to what is and what is not proper conduct outside the atmosphere. As such, three major issues need to be addressed by this council, and addressed in such a fashion that further conflict is squelched."

_Oh shit_, Wayne thought crassly. _Chalk the Equatorials up as a stringer for the EA_, he thought behind a passive face. "Please enumerate your points of contention, that we may resolve these issues forevermore," Wayne requested.

"First, the primary question of the rights of Coordinators and Eugenics must be solidified in treaty, at least for purposes of international discourse. I do not propose to force any government to allow the use of Coordinator programs inside their borders, but the basic human rights of those born in Coordinator labs – or in the Magi Eugenics Creche – must be guaranteed, or this war will repeat shortly."

Wayne did not need to write such matters down, though he did as a backup to the computer records and notes being generated by the _Mjolnr_'s AI. Wayne had specifically ordered the AI to downlink to the _Sailboat Reborn_ to assist in the conference, and thus far he was not disappointed by the help. "Noted. We will visit this issue in turn. Your next request, Prince?"

"Second, the sponsoring states to which the colonies occupied by Mendel and ZAFT have outstanding debts that need to be serviced. It is far too much to ask any nation to walk away from investments that start in the low billions and only rise from there. As such, fair compensation for the outstanding debts must be established to prevent further global economic harm."

_I stand corrected_, Wayne thought. He was not so much acting as an Earth Alliance stringer as he was seeing to his nation's interests first and foremost, and trying to snuff our the usual casus belli that started the average war (economic or racial issues) while he was at it. Though Wayne had little respect for him as a politician, the skill with which he was operating on multiple levels was admirable to the Star Admiral. "Acknowledged and recorded, this one is also a contention that will be discussed in due course. Please continue."

"Third, and this may be in contention with ZAFT's request to quash the N-Jammer Canceler, some means of energy generation not reliant on green technologies or fossil fuels must be made available, if one is available, and made so on a widespread scale."

_Good one_, Wayne thought. Anything that calmed down the civilians of the world was likely to lessen the chances of a repeat war. "Acknowledged and recorded. Does the Equatorial Union have any remaining outstanding issues to see to?"

"At this time, the Equatorial Union has declared its outstanding issues." Wayne could tell he was biting something back, but figured it would be a little before he really cut loose.

_This just went from first-round pee-wee league to NFL playoffs in less than five minutes, but I don't see anyone playing for keeps yet_... "Thank you, Representative. The party from the Earth Alliance now has the floor," Wayne presented as transition to keep the process moving. Contrary to common Magi doctrine, speed was intent for these negotiations, because the faster it got done, the less likely the negotiations would be bogged down and therefore the less likely the negotiations would collapse.

-x-x-x-

(20 November CE 71, 1200 hours UTC)  
(Gregor Mendel Primary Academy, Residential Block 3, Mendel Colony)

"I live!" Sapphire half-shouted. "And I completed it without cheating," she noted to forestall any possible accusations from Leon.

"Nice," Leon replied. "Ashe?"

"Just need to gin up a conclusion. It's hard to draw any real answers from something that fits the military definition of a cluster-fuck, except to avoid such situations..."

"What did you do your paper on?" Sapphire asked.

"Decision making and politics during the CE 50s," Ashe replied with a hint of disgust. "I found really a dozen focus points, but I did the big one of the era, the Torino Protocol."

Leon groaned in disgust. "I had to study that rape rag for applied social studies. Perfect example of 'how to start a race war on paper'."

"Yeah, that's what it amounts to. Officially, it only bans Coordinator programs and research on Terra, but the real dirty work was done in the back rooms. It took a few years to get everything organized and give it a facade of legitimacy, but the military occupation of the PLANTs began at the Torino conference. That's easy enough for anyone to figure out if they read through the newspapers of the day."

"And thus was born the strong arm of Blue Cosmos," Sapphire concluded. "Well, above and beyond the obvious terrorism work they had been doing for some time."

"Well, everything starts somewhere, and everything ends somewhere," Leon replied coldly. "Blue Cosmos started after George Glenn data-dumped the Coordinator plans for everyone to read, and will probably die impaled on the sword of some nameless Magi Armored Marine."

"What about the Magi?" Ashe asked in clear tease.

Leon didn't think it was a tease: "Born on a wildly different and fucked-up instance of Terra, will die during the days of Ragnarok at the hands of the Giants of old legend, or some other rather nasty enemy." What myths he had read about the days of Ragnarok did include the involvement of the Giants of Jotunheim, but given the crossing of dimensions was so easy, there would have to be worse things than mere giants just waiting for their heyday...

"That's a long ways off, right?"

"I hope so, Seph, I'm beginning to enjoy it here. It would suck ass to die in Ragnarok just after getting here and getting settled down, not to mention having slogged through a third of my Finishing Classes."

"Not likely," Ashe replied. "What little official word I was able to find on it suggests that Ragnarok is well off in the future. We should be safe for now."

"You say so," Sapphire replied. "Anyways, what should we do for your outtro?"

"Here," and Ashe offered her hand for the three to form the triangle. It lasted thirty seconds, where the three telepaths could exchange thoughts, suggestions, and phrases almost as fast as computers could communicate in network. "That should do it. Thank you both."

During those thirty seconds, a column of forces had been traversing the colony from one end to the other, in a preplanned and rather complex move order that necessitated Marines to control traffic on the roads that were used. In this case, the first indication that something was going on was the Marine MP officers stopping at the intersection corner nearby the school. "Another transport run?" She was referring to the infrequent passage of Cargomechs that bounced from one end of the colony to the other, and had to be escorted to avoid stepping on civilians or civilian vehicles.

"No, something else, has to be Mobile Suits," Leon said as another APC surged forward, with Marines to block the next intersection on their path.

Gregor Mendel Primary sat on a corner and occupied half the block, meaning the open courtyard had clear line of sight to two intersections now being manned by Marines. In the distance, the sound of some kind of mobile force was audible as they slowly trudged in the direction of the school. A third APC wheeled by, this one headed through the second closed intersection, and sixty seconds later a fourth APC went by. The only thing preventing anyone in the school or courtyard from seeing the approaching mobile units (louder than the average Mobile Suit) was the high-rise apartment buildings on R3-8 South.

"Whatever they are, they're extremely loud!" Ashe half-shouted to be heard over the clanking of the oncoming armor.

"From the oncoming echoes, they should be coming into sight just about...HOLY SHIT! That's not a Mobile Suit!"

"Whoa, what is that thing?" Ashe asked at a full shout.

"Battlemechs!" Leon replied in kind. "First one's a Blood Asp, big sucker, direct assault 'mech. Makes a Mobile Suit look like a limp dick. I don't recognize the second one, but the third is a Timber Wolf, a mainstay machine and also makes a Mobile Suit look like a limp dick. Fourth one is a Naga, dedicated artillery unit, it'll erase whole grid squares clean if left unchecked. Fifth machine is a Black Lanner, probably the scout for the unit but not something you ignore."

The whole school had turned out at the windows to see the seismic and aural anomaly march by. Leon was not the first nor the last to comment on the machines that were wildly different from Mobile Suits, though he did not comment on a rather unusual feature of the five Omnimechs that marched past him. All five were painted in a black-on-crimson paint scheme with some decorations on each machine, where most Magi units were painted (unit stripe color)-on-gray. He had no way to know he was watching a mercenary formation walk past in perfect lock-step.

-x-

"Pass your classes, kids, and you can pilot one of these monsters someday," Star Commander Tiffany said on the radio but not on her loudspeakers.

"Well, I counted at least eight hard-ons," Point Officer Ami noted from the rear-end position on the column. "Hard to tell how many in the school, though."

"Well, they just saw 365 tons of whoopass stomp by, so a few boners is a given," Rick replied. "I remember every time some machines stomped by my school, I was one of the first at the windows every time."

"Think we'll begin Omnimech production here?" Ami asked after they were out of sight of the school.

"Not likely, at least not immediately," Tiffany replied with a shrug, a gesture the static joints on the Cauldron-born she was driving could not mimic. "Any production will likely go to Mobile Suits, Gundams, and Fighters first and foremost, machines that are, well, if not universally useful, then a little closer to it."

"Still, nothing beats a good Omnimech in ground-to-ground warfare, not even most Gundams," Jessie replied in kind. She had even proved it in years past, in a battle that was as hopelessly one-sided as ever seen. A Sandrock (Kai) pilot said he could cleave a Timber Wolf apart in seconds. Said Gundam never approached within 950 meters of Jessie's Omnimech. The beam machinegun carried by the S2 variant Sandrock is a poor substitute for real medium-range firepower, of which the Timber Wolf carried a lot, a fact she proved very adroitly in that battle. _Oops_, she thought, mentally reliving the last moments of the battle as her ER Large Lasers had found the engine of the Sandrock Kai.

Death for the errant Gundam pilot was relatively instantaneous, she had found out in the after action report, and there wasn't enough left of the Gundam to count as salvage. It wasn't often one saw an engine go critical like that, but it did happen from time to time, even among the Magi. The shoot was declared a clean Circle of Equals, but Archenar Industries (the manufacturer of that particular Gundam) had grilled her for several months afterward to learn what went wrong with their engine design. Jessie couldn't remember offhand if they came to any substantive conclusion other than 'shit happens, comrade' and just kept on going as normal. Certainly they hadn't told her about it.

"The problem is we're not going to be doing much in the way of ground-to-ground for some years," Rick, the pilot of the unit's Naga artillery Omnimech, replied in kind. "We're probably the blatant exceptions to the rule, first on the ground and first to kick some ass if needed. I highly doubt a systematic ground campaign is even possible on our existing force structure, much less desirable." He was basing his opinion on a rather basic fact: among the Star Empires, a planet may have a Regiment (Cluster) of actual Mobile Army forces, and upwards of two Brigades (Galaxies) of militia forces for general purposes, and sundry other specialist units here and there (Magi, in particular, had a lot of military police formations on each planet, if small ones). The armor forces carried by the _Mjolnr_ would have been suitable to a forced break-in under those force guidelines, on the assumption that there would be additional forces to join in the battle shortly. Here on this instance of Terra, any one of the nation-states on Terra had six times that amount of military covering less than an eighth of the planet's usable land masses. Quite literally, the Magi lacked the forces necessary to do anything seriously threatening to the surface of the planet, except possibly use suborbital bombardment on the surface below.

"Sometimes, I don't mind being the exception to the rule," James commented from the lead 'mech, smiling unseen to the others as he took an indicated right-hand turn down a different block. "Still, if the EA comes looking for a serious fight, like a couple of carrier battle groups, we're in a world of trouble."

"No shit, sensei," Tiffany replied crassly. "The Junk Guild is concerned, but so far there is no overt threat to the Gigafloat. This is probably just going to be a nice and quiet garrison contract."

-x-

_And that is the final step_, Calamira thought behind a passive face, having sensed the actions of the trio. She was working with a pair of Star Colonels on some intelligence matters, but she was also paying attention to the most surprising of students she had encountered in a long time. After all, one of the main but unspoken missions of every Strategic Officers was to find more candidates for Strategic Psionic duties, since there was always three times more demand for said personnel than there were bodies to fill said demands.

"Here's where it goes squirmy, ma'am," the Commando Star Colonel (unrecognized to the other Star Colonel as being a Commando) replied to the question unstated. "Once they take the northern and southern bases, given estimated losses, I would have to say their operation plan has only a fifty-fifty chance of working. Less, if the OpFor is smart about it."

"Yeah, doesn't look good for the kindred spirits down planetside," Calamira agreed, trying to think in three directions at once. "Anyway, short of an airstrike or suborbital bombardment, anything we can do to assist?"

"I have an idea, but I don't want to discuss it openly," the senior Star Colonel replied.

Calamira nodded, then turned to the other Star COlonel. "Thanks, Louis, I have a couple things to discuss with Reeve anyway."

"Aye, milady," the Star Colonel of MA forces replied, stood, came to attention, and was out the door in less than ten seconds.

"Okay, what's this idea for covert and extreme assistance?" Calamira replied.

"As you are aware, ma'am, there is a lot of large-item loose debris in orbit around Terra," the Star Colonel prompted...

...And Calamira picked it up immediately: "And not all of it is in a properly stable orbit," she replied in kind. "What's your concept?"

"There are random drops from the belt all the time. Most burn up in the atmosphere, but about twice a month something gets to the surface. Usually not enough to worry about, though. So, I figure I do nine drops, spaced randomly with a average of two hours per, four to burn up in atmosphere, five to hit ground, two misses, one close and two hits. One on the staging base the rebels are planning to hit during their second push, one graze on reinforcements, and one direct on the northern reinforcements. We can call it a chain-reaction impact anomaly, even have a DS nearby to provide raid warning to the EA and make it look like we're trying to be nice." Not that such raid warning would mean a damn in the end, they both knew. Even if the EA believed them, the likelihood that the information would get to South America fast enough to make a difference was practically zero.

"Outstanding," Calamira replied. "We have _Forrestal_ nearby the optimal drop area, anyone on the ship reliable enough?" By which she meant a Commando on the ship capable of doing the operation without balking.

"Oh yes, Kingfisher is on hand with his Gundam. It should be a simple exercise for him." Moving debris around was a mission every MS and MA pilot practiced, because sometimes a formation had to move through shoal zones. Avoiding banging up your ships was a necessity before the gunfire started.

"Well then, after this brief, cut them some orders. I want it to look as random as possible."

"Can do," the Star Colonel replied. "Anything else, ma'am?"

"Aff, I have found a bit of an anomaly at a nearby school," and Calamira went on to explain for a few minutes. "What do you think?"

"Offer 'em a job, right quick, ma'am, before some corporation discovers them and steals them away for their own espionage purposes." It was not unheard of to find Strategic Psionic candidates working for major corporations in a capacity that was borderline illegal, nor was it entirely welcomed. Such personnel were significantly more useful to the Empire as a whole serving the Empire and not just one corporation.

"Roger that," Calamira smiled at the thought. "Anyway, how goes the contract for the new fighters?"

"The Thunderball has passed out of its routine upgrades phase and the Red Team drill came back 100-ready, so Ames Engineering is doing a series of prototypes now. Expected readiness is in about two months for the first craft, with another craft ready every five days afterward."

"What's Rico have to say about 'em?"

"His last comment on the things was, and I quote, 'if they had one built right now, I'd bone it twice a day'. Answer enough, ma'am?"

"The thought of that hurts, and I'm not even a guy," she replied with a grimace to effect. "All right, that should be everything for today. Get those orders out fast, the rebellion is almost in place to begin their attack."

"Aff, ma'am," the Commando Star Colonel came to attention, turned, and was out the door in moments.

-x-x-x-

(20 November CE 71, 1900 hours UTC)  
(Dropship _Sailboat Reborn_, Captain's Quarters)

_So far so good_, Wayne thought, looking over the record of what exchanges had taken place today during the main negotiations for the peace treaty. He could also tell that more than half the major players were holding some big cards and holding them close. Wayne had his own cards to play, the biggest one being fusion reactor technology, a veritable cure-all for the energy crisis on the planet below. The production of Tritium for use in an ICF (3) reactor was a technically simple exercise for Mendel, and that gave him a very good trading position for anyone willing to do business and in such fashion cure their nation's power problems.

The reports from the other conferences were just as appealing to Wayne. The three big ones, asteroid mining, interplanetary travel, and interstellar travel, all showed at least a small amount of progress. The big one – germanium mining and rights – was well in favor of the Mendel position. After all, Germanium had some small use in industries, but really showed its value in interstellar and interdimensional travel, and so far the only side hungry for Germanium happened to be Mendel. Go figure.

The second-tier negotiations were a bit of a mixed bag, in all reality. Civilian shipping free passage was not going well at all – by account of the Star Captain doing the negotiation, the National Defense Industry Association was running a helluva good racketeering operation and wanted no competition on that account. Similarly, the Star Captain tasked to Tariff negotiation reported an impasse on his side of the shop, for the same reason. The EA NDIA didn't want competition, and looked at tariffs as one way to shut that down. Exchange of Non-military technologies and dual-use industries were operating at break-even, the EA wasn't asking for anything too drastic on those fronts. The only thing that made substantial progress was civilian aerospace, and that really tied into interstellar travel just as much as it did anything for civilians, something the EA had made noise about from time to time.

_I cannot accuse them of being stupid, of course, just taciturn_, Wayne thought crassly. In so doing, he mirrored thought process to a certain expatriate rebel in South America, and never realized it. _Still and all, the NDIA doesn't want competition because it kills their ability to influence the upper echelon of the Earth Alliance. Basically an overlarge mafia operation, and I think I can see to it these modern-day Capo get a good rub-out if needed..._ The problem with commercial ventures of such a type is that they were inherently not stealthy. Should a company do something like run a business the way a nation-state would run a clandestine operation, any chance for profit from that operation would go to hell in a hurry. The necessities of stealth and the inherent security procedures would inevitably leave the option open only to governments, who could afford to take several billions of dollars of profit loss to protect those assets. Very few corporations among the Magi could do so, and even fewer corporations here on this planet could match. Stealth in the classic sense was truly the domain of the nation-states, and all manner of reports Wayne received pertaining to the NDIA simply reinforced that premise.

In such a scenario, however, the equation could be inverted easily and in a very cost-efficient manner. Because a business could not maintain stealth except in microcosm, it could maintain a form of backwards stealth by operating loud and hard with one hand, distracting interested parties from the actions of the other hand operating in the semi-shadow environs. To point, Wayne was doing a bit of that himself, making a lot of sound and fury in fixing the _Mjolnr_'s jump engine while the real work was being done in the various hangar bays of the _Mjolnr_, repairing the damaged fighters, Mobile suits, and Mobile Armors. The least optimistic estimate put all the Mobile Armors damaged prior to the jump as mission-capable just after the first of the year. The most optimistic estimate had the final Big Zam repaired and recertified in two weeks. While people thought the downtime of the _Mjolnr_ would be the golden opportunity for an assault action, they had little to no warning that Wayne had brought most of his heavy forces back online and was weeks away from being fully mission-capable (less what was destroyed beyond repair).

A ringing at the door to Wayne's office on the Dropship announced a presence. "Come," Wayne ordered simply.

The first inside was an Armored Marine, one of the few on the ship. "Sir, I have Admiral Sutherland here to speak with you."

"Aff, see him in," Wayne ordered. The Marine gestured the Admiral in as Wayne stood, and the Marine remained inside as guard. "Admiral Sutherland, been a while. How goes it?"

"Fairly decent," William Sutherland replies as he approached, then the two Admirals shook hands. "Could be better, could be worse, you know the drill."

"Indeed," Wayne replied, having said the same thing more than once himself in recent weeks.

"Heard you got shot a few weeks back, anything serious?" Exchanges at this level always had a modicum of pleasantries before the business began in earnest, even among enemies.

"Neg, just a reminder that jacketed rounds will bounce off concrete with enough velocity to injure. Anything to drink this evening?"

"Scotch and rocks, if the Magi distill such liquors?" Admiral Sutherland asked.

"Can do," Wayne replied. The Captain's quarters (given over to Wayne for the duration) had a decidedly non-standard booze cabinet, and it was kept well stocked by the crew of the ship. An ice machine co-located to the cabinet provided for the rocks, and a decent scotch was not hard to find. "Now, what may I do for you this evening, Admiral?" Wayne asked after handing over a glass.

"I have some interesting pictures I'd like you to look over. My intel weenies are telling me one thing, but what they're telling me just doesn't make sense, given some of the rather strange regs the Magi have." Admiral Sutherland had opened his attache case to extract the pictures while speaking.

"You're not the first to speak about Magi regs being strange...and...whoa," Wayne faltered after he received the packet of pictures. "That's a serious hunk of metal, if not terribly inspired in form," Wayne mouthed his first appraisal of the machine. "Looks like seventy tons, give or take, Gauss rifle for a primary, two LRM ten-packs, and three SRM four-packs. Rather vanilla hunk of hardware, design ethos reminds me of Dark Moon armor forces."

"Dark Moon? How can you tell?" Admiral Sutherland asked, almost incredulous that the Star Admiral had typed it so quickly...or was running off a script.

"Well, since I'm as much a Gundam pilot as I am a Star Admiral, I have to be able to recognize enemy machines by silhouette and design ethic in a split-second before said machine force-feeds me a 125-kilo nickel-ferrous slug at high velocity, follow?"

"Makes sense," Admiral Sutherland replied. He had been through tank driver's school long ago, and one of the lessons impressed on him during that time was the ability to recognize various APC, IFV, and MBT silhouettes at range. It only made sense, and fit into the fierce Magi reputation for training, that they would be able to do the same thing. "So, what about this one?"

"Here," and Wayne put four of the pictures on top of a note-puter faceplate. With a simple button press, the pictures were flash-scanned into the system, and the four pictures provided a complete view of the machine. "Computer, generate a 3-D model and best-guess analysis of this machine."

"Analyzing now, please hold," the 'Betty' voice of the ship replied. "Analysis and modeling completed."

"Computer, wall projection, three-quarters view, line up this unit, the 66-G variant of the Von Luckner, the Dark Moon's Tapper mobile artillery, and the Negaverse Siege Tank IIN." After a moment, the wall to Sutherland's left lit up with a projection of the machines Wayne requested. "Okay, these are three heavy-armor tracked units in common use by the Star Empires, the Magi's Von Luckner IIM, the Negaverse Siege Tank IIN, and though the Tapper is commonly a mobile artillery piece, you can replace the Thumper housing in two hours with a Gauss Rifle and charging system, using only a three-centimeter wrench, a twenty-ton forklift and four mechanics, and suddenly you have a main battle tank instead of a mobile artillery piece. We lost a few battles back during the war because they did that to us on the sly."

"Ouch," Sutherland replied. Immediately, he could see the design similarities between the Tapper and his mystery flea from South America. "Anyway, now that you have this thing up next to some similar units, I see the differences and the similarities," Sutherland replied.

"The one feature that stands out for me is this, the front and side armor sloping," Wayne commented. "The Negaverse uses a steep forward slope and slab-sides commonly, though Negaverse hover tanks are sloped all around, so you can rule them out. Also, the Negaverse is in love with quad-track designs, they haven't put out a military design with two treads since before the Star Empire Wars, and not to mention these SRMs are all wrong, Negaverse preference is for SRM-6 packs, not four-packs like we Magi or the Dark Moon prefer."

"Why four treads?" Sutherland asked, having never seen a tank with more than two treads anywhere. The unknown unit used the classic two-track system, not a four-track arrangement.

"If you lose one track, you're only crap out of luck to the tune of a quarter. It'll cut your cross-country speed down a bit, but you're still moving. On dual-track machines, you lose one track and you're done for the day."

"Makes sense," Sutherland replied, making clear note of that fact for future reference. "And just at a glance, our mystery tank doesn't match Magi ethos, it has a petrochemical engine in it, which I am led to believe is illegal in your society?"

"Without the right paperwork and a damn good reason, you can't operate an ICE inside Magi territory. More to the point, ICE engines are specifically denied to the Magi military, even in noncombat roles, and as a practical matter they aren't really needed. We get by well enough with fusion engines and fuel cell systems. If this was Magi-designed, whoever built it would be looking at a couple decades of brig time, and probably me as well on general grounds."

"The eco-weenies hate you that much?" Sutherland asked in shock.

"The eco-weenies hate everyone, Admiral, and the higher you are in government or military the more they will hate said allotment of everyone." Wayne shrugged. "All you can do is hate 'em back and keep on keepin' on. There is no turning back the clock on progress."

Sutherland grunted. "The missile launchers, are they the same across all of an Empire's designs?"

"No, but thanks for reminding me, we can type the missile launchers fairly easily." Wayne pressed a command button on his desk. "Computer, cross-type the SRM and LRM launchers on unknown tank and display results."

The computer isolated the SRM-4 launchers first, then scrolled a bunch of missile launcher pics by until it halted on one and flashed. "Missile launcher SRM-4 identified as Ironon Weapons Cross Pattern SEP4 launcher, Illyaris manufacture and sold under contract to Dark Moon industrial conglomerates per trade treaties." the computer remained silent for a few moments as it scanned through the LRM-10 launchers. It took longer to match, but: "Missile Launcher LRM-10 identified as Precision Weapons Corporation LRM-10 Revision 4B1, used exclusively in Dark Moon ground armor applications."

"Well, that's good," Gerald Lightbringer noted from behind Admiral Sutherland. Neither Admiral had noted his entry, but neither were really concerned about it. "Dark Moon put out a new toy for us to break or something?"

"Good question," Wayne replied. "Where did you get these pictures, or am I allowed to ask?"

"Colombia, South America," Admiral Sutherland replied. "Those pics are three weeks old."

"Whoa, that's news to us," Gerald sounded half-shocked. "How are they getting 'em into country without anyone knowing?"

"Wouldn't be the first time they pulled that stunt and nobody noticed," Wayne replied. "Their Gate Mages are some of the best, better than most Magi Gate Mages in that respect."

"Yeah," Gerald groused, "and so long as the Gate Mage stays on the Dark Moon side of the hole, we'd have no way of detecting the transfer." Gerald based his analysis on the fact that a Strategic Psionic had to be right in front of one of the terminus of a Gate spell to sense what was on the other side. Any amount of range between the Psion and the Gate made it impossible to tell something was even happening. However, a Gate Mage standing out in the open on the defended side of the transfer was about as easy to find as a single cloud in an otherwise clear sky. "Slick shit, but not a good way to run a railroad. Lose the Gate Mage, your whole operation is cut off, which would eventually turn those tank crews into poorly-trained infantry at best."

"And if I told you the machines were being assembled in Colombia with parts brought in from somewhere else?" Sutherland prompted.

"Local manufacture?"

"You could probably get by with the frame, turret, engine, and maybe the electronics, but I don't see them making even licensed copies of the armor and weps in Colombia," Gerald quashed his bosses' thought aborning. "Hell, we can't even manufacture our own equipment here, we don't have the necessary tooling and materials processes available." That was rapidly changing even as Gerald said it, and he wasn't about to volunteer anything positive to the Earth Alliance.

"Well, from a transport perspective, it would be very easy to bring in a little technical manpower and the parts needed, all you'd have to do is assemble the frame and marry the armor and weps to the chassis. Still, the weak point in the chain would be the Gate Mage, all someone would have to do is lob a hand grenade through the gate and it is problem solved." Of course, such a matter was never that simple, but Wayne was not going to cloud the issue with extraneous details.

"Interesting," Admiral Sutherland replied. "I figured this one was not yours, too many things way off to match Magi hardware. If it does turn out to be Dark Moon, or someone else of that bent, would you object?"

"Do what you will," Wayne replied immediately. "The Multimage Empire and the Dark Moon Empire have never seen eye-to-eye. I won't lose any sleep over them, especially if they're screwing around in your internal affairs."

"Kill 'em all and count the bodies," Gerald confirmed. "Hell, if you need any help, give me a buzz and I'll send 'em a 'care package' by express mail."

"Thank you," Admiral Sutherland tossed off the last of his scotch and stood. "It's a bit more information than I had earlier today, maybe even enough answer to solve this one."

"Good luck, but be wary of those LRMs," Gerald noted. "Dark Moon LRMs are famous for being able to pull 14 Gs on terminal guidance. I don't think the average Coordinator can outmaneuver 'em, your best bet is some kind of Anti-Missile System, a shield, or simply be somewhere else."

"I'll keep that in mind, Century Commander," Admiral Sutherland replied with a gracious nod. "Excellent scotch, by the way. Whose is it?"

"Good question," Wayne picked up the bottle to check the label. "Ah, this is some of the good stuff. Sylvan Distilleries, they're an export outfit in the New Moon Empire. Expensive as hell, but some of the best. Here, keep it," Wayne handed him the bottle. "The Captain owes me fifty C-bills anyways." Such was the result of a bet between the two officers as to the progress on the negotiations. "Anything else I can help you with?"

"No, thank you for the run-down on this machine," and Sutherland waved at the projections on the wall. "You can keep those pictures, and if you find anything else out, I would be much obliged."

"Will do," Wayne replied as he saw the Admiral out the door. Gerald had not left, having his own business to see to, but the Marine did. Wayne waited three seconds after the door closed to say anything else. "Talk to me," he ordered simply but sharply.

"If it fooled you, it's a clean mark for the entire chain," Gerald commented. The one loose cannon on the deck would have been a Mage that noticed something about the design that made it look distinctly Magi, but if Wayne could not see it, nobody would.

"I had my suspicions, Gerald, but isn't this kinda pushing our luck?"

"Not really," Gerald replied. "Everything is nanotech manufactured to Illyaris or Dark Moon specifications, and even has bogus serial numbers indicating equipment the Negaverse captured back during the Quarter War. Unless they take our production facility, there is nothing that can be traced to us."

"Very well, you have a retroactive go-mission from me, provided your contacts back home can save both our asses from the coming eco-weenie firestorm. And next time you start something like this, make sure I am informed."

"Well, sir, the eco-pussies have an understanding with my former side of the house. They do not make noise about our operations, they do not end up in a ditch, covered in fuel oil, on fire. It _is_ as simple as that."

Since Wayne was still facing away from Gerald, the Century Commander could not see the grimace from his superior.

-x-x-x-

(21 November CE 71, 2030 hours Lima (local) time)  
(Brazil territory, western reaches, USSA)

"Tomorrow is it," Edward Harrelson commented to the assembled forces of the USSA resistance movement, southern branch. Hundreds of vehicles and personnel, dozens of tanks, scores of Mobile Suits had shown for the southern theater of the combat action. This rank included what had become a minor legend in the rebel community, a modified Gundam Mark II with a Funnel Binder and Beam Shotgun taken from another Gundam, the Sazabi. Why the Magi had given up such a machine (or how it had been lost) was still a mystery to Ed Harrelson, and one he was reluctant to shine some light on. For damn sure it had turned the Earth Alliance and their Blue Cosmos flunkies into a char mark whenever encountered, though Ed figured that was as much the pilot as the machine.

"Hell yeah," an Argentine cell commander noted. "We're with you, Harrelson, win or lose. Just say the word."

"The word is simple: flanking strike," Ed replied. "The base is set up to defend against an attack on the likely avenue of approach, being the northwest quadrant. I used to operate out of this base during my EA days, before they shipped me up top for that disaster."

On portable computers and cockpit monitors throughout the formation, a satellite photo of the base came up. It had taken some serious work to wire together and network the entire compliment of machines, but this also had the side effect of readying all the equipment to coordinate tomorrow. "This is the base facility we will be attacking, the southernmost staging base. Notice the modest perimeter and the reinforced bunkers at EA-specified intervals, with a few heavier gun emplacements farther inward. This is going to be the big challenge of the operation, we have to silence the guns and silence the artillery positions rapidly before they chew our forces to bits. EA artillery doctrine may be lax, but enough guns left unchecked for long enough can cripple a target."

"For that, beam weapons aren't going to be of much use," the pilot of the Gundam Mark II noted steadily. "Even Magi doctrine specifies use of explosive weapons for busting bunkers, beams have little effect against concrete."

Ed nodded, even though few were around to see him. It was a common failing of even some of the brightest military personnel in existence, to think that beam weapons were a panacea for your problems. In real-world application, even the beam weapons carried by Warships had little to no use against rock or reinforced concrete structures; such was perfect reason why several assaults against Boaz had failed during the war, where only one attack succeeded by using nuclear weapons. It was also one of many reasons why the Magi tended to carry mixed arsenals of beam, ballistic and missile weapons, or so the Marine advising Ed had said. If you had to tear down a concrete structure, 180 kilos of missile hocked out of a MRM-40 worked far better than any beam rifle commonly carried.

"We have a goodly supply of GINN units with bazookas and 76mm machine guns, and my pilots have been getting a lot of trigger time lately," Paraguay's Chief of Resistance noted. "If your guys can keep the flies off my teams, we can lay down some Semtex (4) on those bunkers." Ed grimaced at the mixed terms the speaker was using, but held his peace.

"That's what we will do, then," Ed replied. "We will punch our breach on the south side of the facility, focusing mostly on the eastern half of the southern perimeter. This also puts us closest to the enemy artillery sites, which will need to be neutralized as quickly as possible. From there, once we are inside it is simply a sweep and clear operation. Any questions?"

"Yeah, who decided on fireworks before the operation?" one of the dismounted infantry nearby Ed asked. Within moments, all eyes were looking up to the veritable fireworks show above them.

"Debris from the Junk Belt. I hope Mendel really can clean all that crap up," Rico noted sourly.

-x-

(21 November CE 71, 1420 hours UTC (1920 Hours Lima (Brazil)))  
(Debris Belt)

Star Colonel Tellos (Kingfisher to other pilots) simply chuckled at the perversity of the situation. His initial orders were to simply scout out the debris belt for a likely starting place of high-value salvage; like all things Commandos were ordered to do, he followed his orders with an eye toward evolving, existing and possible conflicts. This meant that he deployed with a full combat load (including a 500-megaton Antimatter warhead for his nuclear bazooka) and with some extraneous gear for moving space debris around. After all, it would not be the first time a Commando had been called upon to drop chunks on a planet below, in support of kindred spirits...

In this case, the notable scrap de rigeur happened to be the United States of South America, and Kingfisher had sited his expedition in an area where sufficient sizable debris was available to deploy if needed. It wasted perfectly good salvage, but Commandos were less inclined to care about salvaging the deceased as they were inclined to protect the living.

All things considered, though, Kingfisher never expected to actually have to do it, since the boss was a Techstriker Star Admiral, not a Commando Star Admiral, and thus lacked the nerve to take initiative. Or so it seemed. Four months ago, Tellos would have bet his retirement account on the Star Admiral lacking balls; after the Second of Jachin Due, his opinion had changed slightly. On the other hand, Gerald was a Commando, regardless of what he said to the contrary, and Calamira Weste was a Strategic Officer, possibly the one entity in the Magi hierarchy more ruthless than the Commandos. When the orders came, Kingfisher simply mounted his Gundam, picked up the crates of heavy equipment maneuver engines, and departed the Dropship without fanfare.

Outside the Dropship, it was simple work for the Commando NEST operator to find about fifteen good-sized pieces of debris for this phase of the plan, and one deceased _Drake_-class frigate. The former would be the instruments of destruction, the latter would be the 'excuse' for the operation, a piece of subterfuge aimed at giving the debris drop a patina of legitimacy. Five of the maneuver engines went on the _Drake_, one engine apiece to the remainder of the debris pieces. Nothing spectacular, actually, since this was supposed to look like a natural event. Kingfisher had no idea how perfectly he would fool even the best attempts to find anything out about Mendel involvement

"Igniting motors one through five now," Kingfisher noted for his audio logs. The crew of the _Forrestal_ were necessarily in on the operations plan, but Kingfisher had kept them out of the operations loop for the most part. With the first five motors ignited, though, the matter was wholly out of his hands and now trusted to a combination of fate and ballistics.

As the _Drake_ passed two pieces of colony hull plate, a motor on each ignited as the _Drake_ altered course slightly to simulate striking an object. Thirty seconds later, it passed a sizable chunk of the old Yggrasil Space Station, the first piece of debris that was actually scheduled to make planetfall. At this point Kingfisher made to pursue, a ruse necessary for the appearance of trying to stop the impending atmospheric reentry, though a ruse that would not be clearly seen by a certain asset in Alaska...

-x-

(21 November CE 71, 1430 hours UTC (1930 Hours Lima (Brazil)))  
(Shemya Radar Station, Alaska)

During the Cold War of old Terran history, Shemya had been the site of a critical NORAD asset: the Cobra Dane radar array used to track all manner of objects in space. Over the decades, Cobra Dane had been replaced with more powerful radar systems, descendants of the original radar never used for its intended purpose of tracking ballistic missiles in a nuclear exchange.

In the past century, Cobra Dane IV, affectionately called "The Great Granddaughter" by its operators, had taken on a new and very busy tasking of keeping track of the material in the Debris belt. For a radar designed to track ballistic inbounds from the time they first appeared over the horizon (just after launch) to the point at which they went below the horizon (moments before they detonated), tracking debris in mostly stationary orbit was a stupidly easy task. In fact, the computer filtered out anything that was retaining a stable orbit, regardless of the speed of transit, since anything moving fast enough and in the proper arc was going to stay there until Mendel cleaned it up and turned it into new beer cans, or so the radar technicians told themselves. The computer also filtered out anything moving below a certain speed, as it would not make planetfall in any meaningful way if it was not moving fast enough. In this fashion, the radar systems never saw Kingfisher's Gundam at work, modifying otherwise stable debris into kamikaze clutter.

As such, the appearance of a large moving object on a degenerating orbit got their system's attention, followed shortly by the attention of a Master Sergeant. "Sir, we have movement, sector 3-Delta, object over 20,000 tons," the Sergeant informed the watch commander. "Confirmed degenerating orbit, computer's chewing on destination."

"Sir, more debris moving in 3-Delta, definite degenerating orbit," the tech next to him declared.

"3-Delta, isn't that nearby that salvage expedition from Mendel?" the Captain in command of the watch asked nobody in particular.

"And more debris moving now, looks like we have a rogue chunk that dislodged a few other pieces," the Master Sergeant noted. "I count six pieces in motion plus the primary. Altitude says it has a lot of debris field still to go through, we may get a herd comin' down."

"Find out where," the Captain ordered. "With this many pieces falling, something will hit the surface." Wholly ninety seconds had elapsed since the first contact, and time was ticking fast for anyone caught under the now-unfriendly skies.

"Captain, radio, we have a message from that Mendel Dropship that was doing debris salvage."

-x-

FROM: Mendel Civilian Dropship _Forrestal_ (GDS-870068)  
TO: Earth Alliance facility NORAD, copy downlink Earth Alliance Radar Station Shemya (Cobra Dane Facility)  
RE: Debris collision ref 1430 hours UTC  
TIMESTAMP: 1435 hours UTC

ZZZ – begin message – ZZZ

RAID WARNING RAID WARNING RAID WARNING

Debris collision sighted between supermassive colony hull piece and _Drake_-class derelict ship, _Drake_ identified hull number 504, no ship name on remnants. Subsequent to impact, _Drake_-class dislodged from stable orbit, degenerating orbit confirmed with atmospheric entry estimated 1535 hours UTC. Estimated course only 40 percent likely to eradicate object on entry, likely zone of impact oval described EastLant (5) to Cairo, Egypt and Rome, Italy to Victoria Spaceport. Debris dislodged by transit of _Drake_ on more rapid entry course, estimate first atmospheric entry 1515 hours UTC, estimate latest entry present 1525 hours UTC. Debris dislodged by _Drake_ estimate 75 percent likely to eradicate on atmospheric entry. Estimated drop zones erratic, possible drops as far north as Florida and as far south as Antarctica, best estimate drop area 1300 nautical mile circle centered Paraguay capital city (Asuncion). If further information needed, contact on civilian band 16 stepping 3, priority tasking for this matter.

_Forrestal_ has no assets capable of intercepting debris. God help those in the drop zone.

_Forrestal_ Ends.

ZZZ – end message 1437 hours UTC – ZZZ

-x-

Much as estimated by the _Forrestal_, the _Drake_ overshot South America and would be the last to touch down. The debris headed for South America would get there first. Kira Yamato, standing on the shore nearby his new home in Orb, watched the glowing streaks of debris entering the atmosphere and wondered how long it would take Mendel to clean it all up. Everyone on planet wondered if they would be flattened by space junk, and the Magi (despite their numerous faults) had sworn they would end that threat. Regardless of what Kira felt about them as a political entity, he believed they could do it.

The first three pieces burned up at high altitude, much as the numbers predicted and much as Tellos had intended. The fourth piece slipped down low before it finally broke up into harmless pieces. The fifth object, the piece of Yggdrasil, went all the way and landed high in the mountains of southeastern Peru, where it carved a chunk out of a mountain and started an avalanche that killed only a poor schlub farmer and his herd of sheep. Six and seven also did as intended, look pretty as they burned up to nothing in high atmosphere. The eighth drop failed to guide properly (another intended burnup) and instead skipped off the atmosphere twice before it achieved a reentry vector to come down roughly halfway between Brazil and South Africa. The impact caused a huge splash and a plume of steam but no tidal wave. Understandably, the fishing trawlers in the area did not catch much more in the way of fish in that area for some days.

Nine and eleven were the money shots, which Tellos intended to cause the mass destruction, with ten being another distraction intended to burn up high. Nine did exactly as intended, it landed three kilometers east-northeast of the reinforcements headed for the northern staging base. The impact in question held the kinetic energy equivalent to a multi-kiloton thermonuclear warhead, and in this the Star Colonel got more than he reasonably expected with one blow. Immediately, most of the formation was smashed with overpressure and thrown varying distances to the south, with those not immediately thrown subject to the searing thermal pulse and recursive vacuum pressure accompanying such a strike. Instantly over half of the reinforcements headed to the northern base were annihilated, and not one man or woman that survived could be considered combat ready. Much as expected, any warning of an impending debris drop came too little too late, with a radio message for the formation commander being transmitted fifteen minutes after he had been killed by the strike.

To the south of the main garrison, the eleven drop did even better for such a random attack pattern. The object intended for the strike landed on the northeast watch tower, though being a smaller object it did less damage than the strike to the north. Even still, for a relatively 'soft' target such as an open-air ad-hoc staging base, the damage rent was impressive in the least. No piece of glass on the base survived the strike, and everything in the northeast had been flattened or smashed by the strike. A third of the Mobile Suits on the base were destroyed or damaged beyond economical repair, with another two companies of machines heavily damaged and unusable for weeks. The worst casualties were in the infantry and artillery, at least by numbers, with over 400 infantry and artillery troops killed instantly and another 700 injured to varying degrees. The most crippling casualty, however, was to the communication lines from the southernmost staging base to Manaus, since the communications router facility was only 140 meters away from the strike point and had been completely obliterated. The main garrison would never know the southern bases had been attacked.

Drops twelve and fourteen were more subterfuge, high-level and a medium-level burnup drops respectively. Fifteen turned out to be the last valid drop, out in the jungles of eastern Brazil where nobody was known to live. Tellos had been aware that there were aboriginal tribes throughout the whole jungle basin, though he considered the likelihood of hitting one of their villages to be near zero and immaterial to his operation concept regardless. If he flattened one of their villages, he figured the rest of the world would be hard pressed to notice. Drop thirteen, which was also scheduled to be a burnup, turned out to be a failure that did reach down to the ground and a small inland village not too far from the Amazon River. This strike was noticed and reported on throughout the world, though given the nature of the event it was all assumed to be a cosmic accident. Tellos knew different, and he did find out about that one, though didn't show much in the way of emotion about it.

The final impact of the day was the initial _Drake_-class ship, and as estimated it landed between the Atlantic Ocean and Cairo. Four hundred kilometers south of Tripoli, in an area graciously called 'the middle of fucking nowhere' by cartographers and environmentalists the world over, the _Drake_ made its final showing of defiance in its short lifespan. By slamming into the side of a sand dune that could have been named a small mountain had it not been subject to random resizing by winds, the Drake was converted into several hundred kilotons of kinetic energy that eradicated the dune and let loose plenty of sound and fury. The shaking of the ground in Tripoli presaged the sound of the blast from the south, and most persons in the town incorrectly thought it a battle to the south of the town until world passed around that it was a debris drop. Of this last strike, no human casualties were recorded.

Just like that, the nature of the rebellion in South America had been changed forevermore.

-x-x-x-

(22 November CE 71, 1000 hours UTC)  
(Dropship _Sailboat Reborn_, Cargo Deck 3)

The crew of the _Archangel_ had dispersed into the various conferences, with orders to keep an eye on the proceedings and try to ensure neutral outcomes that benefited everyone. This also included Dearka, who while not being 100 percent aligned with the _Archangel_, wasn't particularly against their position like so many of the other negotiators in the ship.

The problem was simple in statement, but infinitely complex in execution. Everyone here at the negotiations had both an ax to grind and a list of things they wanted in the various treaties. Of course, with so many parties operating at cross purposes, there was likely to be a lot of static in the conferences. On the upper levels, the bulk of the shouting matches were mitigated by the presence of personnel with real negotiating horsepower, ergo the high-level negotiators and heads of state. On the lower decks affairs were not so simple, and Dearka had found himself in the position of reconciliation negotiator, a neutral party standing between the hotheads of all sides in a desperate attempt to bring order to chaos. Word from Sai Argyle and Romero Pal were the same, a few brave souls trying to smooth out the rough waters and not become shark-bait in the process.

"You gotta be a little bit smoother, man, less trying to bite their heads off," Dearka replied to the latest complaint from the guy he was speaking to. "They do have a certain validity to their side, though not a lot," he conceded smoothly.

"There is a difference between holding head position in a market and deliberately nerfing the competition, comrade," the Star Captain replied just as smoothly as Dearka had conceded. "Personally, if it was just the big guy on the block, I would say no problem, the competition would suck the starch out of his Brooks Brothers suit in a New York Minute. The problem is they are trying to use these negotiations as a stick to beat down anyone with pretensions of challenging their market positions. The Sicilian Mafia never had such a good racket going for them as these peacocks have right now," the Star Captain could hardly stay his desire to spit his contempt for the situation...

...And the hell of it was, Dearka agreed with him wholeheartedly. Not only were the NDIA negotiators acting like piracy was going out of style, they did run the bulk of the companies that manufactured weapons specifically for the destruction of Coordinators and the PLANTs. Dearka was extremely inclined to agree with the Mendel rep in this case, but cooler heads had to prevail if any hope of progress was to be reasonably expected.

"Look at it this way, man," Dearka began smoothly, considering his tack rapidly. "You're Aerofighters, right?"

"Aff, have been since I started, lo those many years ago," he replied.

"Well, how hard would it be for you to send their shipping down to Davy Jones for a permanent stay?" Dearka asked.

The Star Captain choked on the thought. "The trash cans they fly? Not even worthy of a line on my codex, much less any form of a challenge," which amounted to one of the most serious insults possible in Magi lexicon. To say that a foe was not worthy of a line on someone's codex basically declared them so pathetic as to be incapable of ever challenging the Magi. In this case he was right, no merchant vessel in the Earth Alliance fleet could hope to pose a threat to an Aerofighter.

"Well, that's all the answer you need. Their ships can't handle the volume of freight Magi Dropships and Dropshuttles can do. Outpace 'em, strip 'em bare and take over their contracts with neutral parties. The Junkers are right, they don't have a prayer before an especially merciful God to compete against the Magi; so rather than trying too hard to break into their markets, why not beat them out in other markets? And, of course, if the bullets fly I won't lose any sleep if some of their merchant traffic finds its way down below the waves, follow?" Dearka didn't especially like the position he was presenting, but he liked less the thought of those same corporations producing various articles used to slaughter Coordinators. Such a case came down to the bad option or the worse option, though Dearka figured he could count on the Magi to take the more honorable path. After all, you had to have some serious issues to willingly park a warship in the flight path of a nuclear warhead, but those same 'issues' could be used for proper purpose with the right cadging...

"Your proposal has merit, comrade," the Star Captain replied. "The negotiating position I must take is pro forma, unfortunately, but there is validity in your proposal, and potentially more profit. I'll see if I can shake loose some slack from on high, so we can brandish the sword in more profitable venture. Might I request you try and get some slack out of the other neutral parties?"

"I'm going to hit Oceania and Equatorial next, they're good candidates for open trade. South Africa is unlikely to give a meter but I can probably get something out of North Africa and Europe."

"Much obliged, comrade," the Star Captain nodded. "I think I just saw the Century Commander pass by a few minutes ago, maybe I can talk him out of a carrot or two..." The stick in the usual carrot-and-stick aphorism, as pointed out by Dearka, was the Magi's ability to 'disappear' some of the rival merchant traffic. Such capital losses could cripple or destroy all but the most solvent of corporations, of which the NDIA had pretty much no solvency in the economic sense (without the pretense of war, their profits would go to hell in a very short span of time). Moments later the Star Captain was headed away from Dearka and toward the easily-recognized form of the Century Commander.

For a moment Dearka remained alone, considering how he was going to talk the Equatorial representatives into cutting a slightly easier line when the negotiations resumed in an hour. There wasn't much in the way of resources or manufacturing in the Equatorial lands, so any trade they could execute was a godsend profit for their nation. Mendel had made some noise in weeks past about possibly converting one or two of their major international airports into full Starports, though how serious an offer that had been was up for grabs. For that play to work, he had to get Mendel to agree to go ahead with the plan, not the simplest of tasks given how anal the Equatorial government had been vis-a-vis Mendel and some of its policies.

Dearka had decided on a slick way to get down to it when something wildly unexpected had happened. "You TRAITOR!" Before Dearka could even walk a pace, he had been slammed into the bulkhead immediately to his right, the armor plate surrounding the engine housing and fuel tank and which made up the engine shaft in the center of the Dropship. "I knew when I saw Lacus here, I would see you," Yzak growled at Dearka from a matter of centimeters away from him.

"Yzak..." Dearka began, but trailed off.

"Now that there's no Marines around, why don't you explain why you jumped ship?"

Dearka had long considered the question just asked of him, and the answer was almost automatic. "I did it because I did not want to be party to the wholesale slaughter of Naturals," he replied with as much defiance as Yzak showed fury.

Yzak expected many things from Dearka, but not that one. It was enough to break his fury, but not his grip. "Eh, what?" Yzak replied blandly.

"After I was captured I saw some things," Dearka admitted, having looked away from his former teammate. "I saw a lot of things. Then, after the Earth Alliance wiped out Orb, I ran into some very crazy people, and you know what? I saw what the answer was, after a while."

"And what is that?" Yzak's hostility had returned in some measure.

"...Red," Dearka half-mumbled, remembering the sight of a Marine and a Gundam Pilot duking it out in the Circle of Equals, one Eugenic, one Natural, one purpose, and eventually one victor...

"What?"

"They all bleed red." That comment was enough to cause Yzak to recoil in horror away from his former comrade. "Yeah, Yzak, never thought about that, did you? Doesn't matter if they're Natural, Coordinator, or Eugenic, they all bleed red in the end." Dearka sighed; he could tell that Yzak understood it intellectually, but the lesson inherent to Dearka's words was not registering. "Kinda hard lesson to pick up from the cockpit of a Mobile Suit, you almost never see the individual people you're killing."

"Well then what? Let _them_ just stomp _us_ into the ground?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that, Yzak," Dearka replied. "You still don't get it, that **IS** the problem in one sentence!"

"At least I'm fighting for something, traitor," Yzak grumped.

Dearka groaned. "Yzak, why is it always dick size with you?" That simple question broke the ZAFT Pilot's resolve instantly. "Someone challenges your beliefs in the slightest and you haul out the fucking yardstick."

"I—huh—" Yzak stammered, with no immediate way to retort Dearka's comment.

"You really need to get out of this school-boy mentality before the adults kick you out of the casino, or worse, bury you under the casino." Without another word, Dearka stepped to the side and walked past the stunned Duel pilot.

Yzak was left staring at Dearka's back as the Buster pilot moved through the crowd to one of the Equatorial representatives.

-x-x-x-

(22 November CE 71, 1030 hours UTC)  
(Commercial Block 1, Mendel Colony)

For Ashe, a Sunday meant a bit of peace and quiet. Or, at least in theory that was how it was supposed to go. Practice, like all good implementations of theory, usually varied wildly from the theory in question.

"Did they have to locate such an annoying club right next to a bookstore?" Sapphire asked in a very soured tone.

"I asked," Leon replied. "A couple Marines offered to help soundproof that side of the building for material and labor, but there really isn't much the owner can do about it short of moving."

"True," Ashe replied. The noise output was loud enough to be noticeable in adjacent buildings, but not noticeable enough to constitute a noise disturbance in the general vicinity. Thus, the MPs could do little to curb the problem.

The other outstanding problem was simpler: Mendel had grown from the leftovers of the _Mjolnr_ to a booming, almost overcrowded city in less than three months. The proprietor considered himself extremely lucky to even find decent tenements, and at a decent-enough rate that he could afford the rent and make a profit. Even if he wanted to move, there was no guarantee that he could find a place to move to, unless Mendel opened up a second colony.

The three fell silent again, trying to avoid listening to the sound from next door and the attendant mental echoes of the three-dozen midday clubbers. Not a simple task for people who could 'hear' an emotional whisper at five hundred meters, but far from impossible. Each was inured in a book of their own whim, Sapphire to old mangas, Ashe to a light novel, and Leon to a magazine on poker and its many variants, though in the case of the latter Ashe and Sapphire were convinced he was interested in the article about the planet Kooken's Pleasure Pit and not the game in question.

The music faded in and out over the hour they were present, though Sapphire thought she detected a hint of Marine intervention in play. A little bit of an oblique warning from an MP to tone it down could go a long way, even if there was no real legal recourse available. It was a universal fear, the thought of the authorities coming down on someone, which changed the way people acted almost magically when in the presence of said law enforcement.

"Oh, this one is a keeper," Sapphire noted. "Need to get the whole series, but it'll have to wait until I get a job of my own."

"Be nice to set up my own casino, wonder if it could be done any time soon..." Leon noted, apparently having not heard Sapphire's comment.

"Not likely," Ashe replied over the edge of her novel. "Gotta have capital to do that, and we broke."

"True, that," Leon replied. "Make it a long range plan, then."

"You and your crazy-ass long range plans," Sapphire replied, though not unkindly.

"At least he's thinking that far ahead, even if a third of 'em are just pipe bomb dreams," Ashe interjected.

"Uh, Ashe, I think it's supposed to be 'pipe dreams' and not 'pipe bomb dreams', girl."

Ashe was nonplussed: "About the same usefulness, no?"

"Well..." Leon began, but stammered. "Something's not right here, something's coming."

"Yeah," Sapphire replied.

"It's the Strategic Officer," Ashe noted quietly, having been in close proximity to her once before. Her comrades had been inducted under Commander Ward, and thus had not seen nor sensed the Strategic Officer. "Don't panic, she may not even know we are here." Even though she said it, she figured it a wasted hope. If she was close enough to sense the Strategic Officer approaching, the inverse was more than readily likely.

Panic was not to be had among the three refugees, but apprehension was the least of their feelings in being so close to one of the pinnacle of Mendel's command structure. For all that the Magi were being very reasonable, even accommodating to the new citizens, there was still a heaping helping of various forms of distrust to be had, especially in a society where the military was the government. Ashe had her suspicions about how the commanders really were, but since she knew that one of them was at least a very powerful Newtype (that concept had been simple to learn but complex to fully understand) and obviously the Strategic Officer was definitely a powerful psionic, she could not readily check up on them. She didn't want to start off her tenure in a new homeland accused of being a telepathic spy.

The apprehension went up two notches as the lady in the black uniform stepped into the bookstore and went to the counter. She exchanged some words with the proprietor, who nodded thoughtfully about something with his reply, then the officer headed back into the...light novels section? With that revelation, the apprehension went down a notch, mainly from Sapphire. "What's she doing in the light novels section?"

Grey Dragon_ series, proprietor says he has two of the books I am missing_, the Strategic Officer replied to her question telepathically. It did not take her long to find the first one, then the other book in question, though she did not leave the book racks immediately.

"Erm, aren't most books published in electronic format?" Leon asked, wondering why a military officer would be collecting paperbacks with ready access to a computer system for the same purpose.

_About half are electronic only, a quarter are dual-format, and the rest are print only. _Grey Dragon_ is print only; an old series my family has been trying to find for decades. Three books left after these two_.

"Wow, that's...interesting."

Apparently the Strategic Officer had found something else worth procuring, though it was on such a high shelf that she could not readily reach it (for all her importance and rank in the Protectorate, Sapphire was just as tall as she was and Leon taller still). She went looking for a footstool, and came back after a minute's search with ample means of reaching the shelf. With that accomplished, the last books were in her hands and the stool returned to its proper location.

"Everyone needs a hobby, I guess," Sapphire noted to nobody in particular.

"It breaks up the tedium of two-year patrol tours," this time the comment was spoken by the Strategic Officer, who had approached the couch that Leon was sitting on. "Regardless, since you're here together and out of school for a day, I have a question I would like to pose to the three of you."

"Uh, sure," Ashe replied warily.

"Excellent," and Calamira took the third chair at the small circle formed by the furniture. Despite the designation 'light novels', the five books Calamira had picked up were not small or light by anyone's measure. "It's fairly safe to say you three know who I am, no?"

"Calamira Weste," Leon replied immediately. "The variably-ranked 3-I-C of the Protectorate and the one reason why Blue Cosmos can't even think loud about doing anything illegal inside this colony without extreme interference. I believe your official designation is Strategic Psionic?"

"Close, Strategic Officer. Psionics don't have a special designation," Calamira replied quietly. "Anyway, it's a rare job. Strategic Officers are in short supply, mainly because the necessary talents are hard to come by. So, I tend to notice when I find talent in my general vicinity..."

"Interesting question," Ashe replied immediately. "What's so special about us? We're just three refugees in school..." The look Calamira had given her was answer enough. "Not fooling you, am I?"

"I wasn't sure if it was your mother or yourself that had tried taking a pass at my mind the day your shuttle arrived. For sure you got Century Commander Lightbringer's attention, though he thought it was your mother. You sorta nuked any suspicion of your family a few days ago, when your Analytical History instructor laid on a three-page paper for four days."

Ashe groaned. "You heard me half-panic about that?"

"I did, and so did a Newtype Aerofighter pilot in the building, but he couldn't isolate who it was."

"Oh, ouch," Sapphire replied. "It must suck to be that sensitive."

"It's more amusing than it sucks, strangely enough," Calamira replied. "Also fairly interesting work in an intellectual sense, in that my job requires me to not only hear what people are thinking but to figure out what they intend, not just what they think or do."

_No hiding it, then_, Ashe replied telepathically. _You want us in to do the same thing as you_?

_Honestly, I need the help. An outfit like this would normally have as many Officers or teams assigned to it as could be scratched up; preferably one per major player, one for the minor nations, and one for domestic security. I can do domestic and ZAFT easily, but when I try paying extended attention to anything on the planet below, it's borderline operational overload_.

_What are our options_? Leon asked fairly.

_I can't order you to do it, the choice is entirely yours and no other. If you're in, you'll have to go through the short version of Basic since you're not really going to be combat personnel. I'll do the Strategic Officer training as OJT, since we don't have a Strategic Studies Institute set up yet. Otherwise you have no real restrictions in civilian pursuits, though I must note that once an employer finds out about your talent, they may use you for corporate espionage purposes, and not at the same pay-grade as the Magi offer to Strategic Officers_.

_Wait, you pay better than corporations do_? That surprised Ashe quite a bit.

_Sometimes better, sometimes a little less. The best salaries for people of our talents are typically paid by the large Mercenary units. Unfortunately there are none around here, and few of them are hiring for Strategic talent as of last I checked before arriving here_. Calamira almost sounded disappointed in that respect, since she wanted to get out into a private venture so she could coax her old teammates to join her with a decent salary.

"I'm in," Leon said after a moment's telepathic silence. "Sounds like fun, and I can drop out if I can't handle it, right?" Calamira nodded affirmative to his question.

"Where he goes, I go," Sapphire replied.

"Ashe?" Leon asked.

"Can I focus on dealing with terrorists?" Ashe asked, remembering the horrid mental sounds of the deaths due to Blue Cosmos firebombs nearby her, those many months ago...

"There really isn't an operation focus for Strategic Psionics, but if you do bird-dog a few cells of scumdogs, I think I can arrange for them to disappear..."

"I'll do it," Ashe replied.

"Very well, once you three pass your Finishing Classes, I'll be in touch with the details and necessary paperwork."

"Ugh, paperwork," Sapphire groaned.

"No true military officer in Existence likes paperwork," Calamira replied honestly. "When the Star Admiral, the Century Commander, and myself get together for paperwork reviews, it averages a piece of four-letter invective every thirty seconds. Fifteen seconds if doing accounting paperwork."

-x-x-x-

(22 November CE 71, 1100 hours UTC)  
(Dropship _Sailboat Reborn_, Crew Deck 2 Lounge Area (converted))

_Well, Lacus gets her revenge_, Wayne thought crassly. _I knew I was going to skate at the cease-fire, but get hosed here at the full treaty. No big surprise, maybe the _Mjolnr_ really is cursed_? It was a hollow thought, even to Wayne, to blame the uneven luck of his ship for the ill wind blowing in the conference room.

The proposal had been forwarded by Lindemann, the representative for Scandinavia, but it amounted to the same thing that Lacus had fronted months ago. It was not complete disarmament, but it did put severe restrictions on the MS, MA, and warship compliments of each side. Opinion was in favor of the bill, especially from the neutral parties who viewed the continual arms buildup from both sides as a severe threat to their sovereignty, though Wayne figured Orb would have a way out that didn't completely cripple the parties.

Thankfully the rancorous response from the Earth Alliance would tie up the negotiation on this point for several days, and Wayne really only needed two days to accomplish the objectives he intended. Maybe a third day to try and bring some order to the chaos spawned by the bureaucrat Lindemann, certainly no more than a fourth.

"Would this proposal not hurt Mendel as well?" Eileen Canaver asked, hoping to co-opt Mendel into refusing the proposal.

"Within limits, yes," Wayne replied calmly. "After a fashion, it makes sense to limit mobile weapons for all parties, but in reality the problem is not how many guns each side has." Even the chitchat between Scandinavia and Equatorial ceased to hear Wayne's pontification. "The problem goes deeper, far deeper than simple arms. The root problem is emotional, and for that the cure can only be within the heart and mind of the civilians we all swore fealty to. What decisions we make here, what actions we take to limit aggressor parties on any side of the equation, can and likely will be rendered ineffective should the will of the people in question deem otherwise."

"How so?" the Professor, representing the Junk Guild, replied with extreme curiosity.

"My apologies in advance to the representative of Equatorial;" the Prince in question nodded to Wayne, since he could probably sense what was coming. "The days of regents and monarchs calling all the shots from on high, with no concern of reciprocity from their controlled populous or other states, those days are long since past. Literally every government and organization represented at this table exists at the behest of its member populous, a principle first recognized by the Magna Carta of England and cemented forevermore with the Nuremberg Trials after World War Two. As such, the people represented by parties present here are the final Judicators of this outcome. I believe it should be made clear that the problem rests therein, not with the military forces of any state or organization at this table, and that any actions taken to limit said military parties will ultimately have no effect whatsoever on the resumption of hostilities, or their veracity."

"I understand what you are saying, but where do you draw the line?" Representative Lindemann asked in clear retort. "When both sides have such an arsenal that they can annihilate the other in one stroke?"

"Such a policy kept the peace on this planet for fifty years before the Reconstruction War, an event known as the Cold War;" the looks Wayne received for that history lesson were mixed from amused to venomous. "It also had a very chilling effect in that it kept all conflict between the major players in the clandestine services or to surrogate states, hence the name Cold War. I, however, do not advise that policy given the present economic instability among all the players at the table, there is no guarantee that such a buildup can be done without collapsing economies."

"Then what do you propose?" Chairman Riseman asked plainly.

"You ask me where I should draw a line?" Wayne asked the Scandinavian representative, not so much ignoring Riseman's question as he used it in form of a bludgeon against the proposal. "With such hatred involved, there is no line. Hatred knows no lines. Hatred knows no boundaries. Hatred does not know nor has a limit. Hatred, just like love, is timeless, and it will burn for thousands of years. We can strip all our armies to the bone, and the hatred will remain. Of that I rest assured." Wayne looked around the table, where most would not meet his eyes. Such was answer enough: they had received the message loud and clear. "You ask me for a solution, Representative Lindemann? Deal with the hatred; that is the only solution. Anything else will not even delay the inevitable in a meaningful fashion."

"How?" he asked, almost despairing of voice.

"The person best suited to give you that answer sits to your right, Representative." Wayne's comment caused quite a stir, for the person sitting to Lindemann's right was Lacus Clyne, and it was widely known that Wane did not get along with Lacus, nor did he like her. "I am a soldier, Representative, and more than that, I am Magi and Eugenic by birth. The Empire has no institutional hatred, for we have made peace with every one of our demons over the millennia. **I** have no hatred, I have no cause for which I must fuel my soul with hatred to achieve my ends. In that respect, I am wholly unsuited to answer your request. Lady Clyne has seen hatred in its maleficent grandeur, has fought hatred in the trenches of both sides. Best you seek her counsel on this matter."

With that statement, all eyes turned to Lacus. She had been expecting the Star Admiral to say many things, all about honor and integrity and purpose; all things that could be easily used against his position, for what was honor or integrity or purpose if life could not be saved? She had never expected him to peg to the hatred of the matter, and she certainly never expected he would turn the field over to her after revealing what she understood was the problem from the start. It took Lacus no more than two seconds to realize she had been silenced, spotlighted, cut off at the knees, and then adroitly cornered by her own position, and all within the space of a four minute analysis of what the real problem was. Perversely, it simplified her position, but it also changed the way she had to execute it.

"The hatred is what must be stopped," Lacus half-echoed Wayne's position. "The Star Admiral was partially correct, thought he understated the problem. He is right, hatred burns forever if left unchecked, but like a fire it will expand when fed more fuel. It will keep expanding until it consumes everything in reach. The fuel of the hatred is different for each side, and mutually exclusive in solution. On one hand, the hatred is of those perceived to be better, the belief that they are somehow receiving what they should not be entitled." Chairman Riseman bristled at the statement, but said nothing. "On the other hand, the belief is that outside parties are unduly oppressing those to which they have no dominion, and that other parties are using violence where it does not need to be used." Eileen grimaced but said nothing.

"These are the core issues to which this council should focus our foremost effort upon," Wayne said stoically. "We can legislate peace. We can draft a thousand copies of a peace treaty, yet if we do not stem the hatred that necessitated this treatise, we shall inevitably be back here to do another peace treaty in a few years." Wayne figured it was time to appeal to their sense of professionalism, and modified his tack to suit it. "We are all diplomatic envoys of our nations. Some of us are soldiers, and we know what a battlefield looks like from an operator's perspective. Most of us are statesmen, and all of us know what the price of this war was for each of our countries or organizations. Let us prevent a repeat of that butcher bill, while we have such a clear-cut opportunity to do so."

* * *

**Author's Chapter Afterword**:

And here it continues. With the shifting of correlations in South America, things are looking decidedly unpleasant for the Earth Alliance, though to what extent remains to be seen. The reinforcements may have been chewed up, but the main garrison in Manaus is the real fist of the operations. That is going to be a seriously tough nut to crack for the rebellion, but they have some serious nut-busters siding with the USSA, so...

As always, it is the little details and intersections in time that truly define the character of the story, with the major strokes defining the plot of the matter. All sides are maneuvering behind the background, jockeying for position in the backfield while showing studious silence on the facade. With the potential new addition to Mendel's psionic spies, the intelligence advantage now shifts to Mendel, always a critical factor in statecraft and warfare, but even the most optimistic of Mendel's soldiers admits they are at severe disadvantage. The great question remains: how long before one of the major players realizes that Mendel has more brittle positions than outwardly appears?

The negotiations are self-explanatory for today. You can see that Lacus had a small part in this one today, but her role is going to pick up pace in the next chapter, especially when she has to smooth out the waters caused by Lindemann's plan. Cagalli also has an ace up her sleeve in that respect, but she is waiting to play her card at a particularly vulnerable time, where it can do the most good. No telling if she will actually get the opportunity, but such are the breaks...

I could have had this chapter readied and released about two weeks earlier than today, but I had a Great-Uncle die a few weeks back. Not the most pleasant of tasks to see to, since everyone in the family loved this guy. Death comes to us all, and each death in the family is simply reminder to me that my time is limited to finish my epic works before I check out permanently. Here's to hoping I win that race. Other delays have happened, mostly centered around my brother returning home from a rather abusive relationship a few states away, and his subsequent departure to truck-driving school. The nearest Greyhound bus stop is about an hour and a half drive from my place, an interesting trip :) Have to keep that in mind if I have to take a drive somewhere. A bonus from my brother's return: he brought his anime collection back, and anime is great fuel for writing...

That's all I have to say about this chapter. NEXT UP: The rebellion in South America explodes in all its fury, capitalizing on the disorganized state of the EA garrison and reinforcements. Above them, in low orbit, a Dropship is the proving grounds of a peace treaty still to be forged, and numerous other agreements of equal but cross purposes. Only the Fates thus far know who shall win, who shall lose, and who shall have strips torn out of their arses...

* * *

Review Replies:

I got a heaping helping of feedback on this last chapter, and none negative. Here goes:

**Deathzealot**: Still no job, but I am talking with a couple places right now. Anyways, Sutherland is getting some serious spotlight, and will get even more in chapters to come, for reasons I don't really want to spoil...

**Knives91**: He may get the message, he may not. Remains to be seen :)

**FraserMage**: You know, you come up with some of the best ideas...

**Knightowl 4183**: Actually, I see more likely a case of the Fenrir being used (that is as closer as a Linear Tank / Bmech hybrid as I can imagine), or they would use successor state technologies to improve their linear tanks.

**Necroblade**: Nope, the dice ref was entirely random on my part, I wrote it out before I realized what I had done, then laughed and kept it in.

ZAFT is going to play it a bit quiet for now, the nail that does not stick out does not get hammered and all that. Of course, they will have a few good ones at the negotiations to come, including a set-up of certain elements for the next Set...

Yes, there will severe repercussions due to the changing circumstances in South America, and thus far nobody has pushed on it, but that may change in an instant...

You know my policy on spoilers, comrade. You will just have to wait and see what happens on the BC scene...

**(Continuing from notes in Beta)**:

Actually, Calamira remained behind not because of any lingering sense of fair play (of which Wayne has little and Gerald has none), she remained behind because of the defensive requirements — there are four armed BC cells in Mendel, and they could 'go active' in a moment's notice. Not to mention someone might try some military action if they thought Wayne being away compromised the Mendel defense forces. Calamira isn't the best of Magi combat officers, but she isn't someone to sneeze at by a long shot.

Dearka's going to be one of those stringers that gets some serious action in upcoming chapters. In all honesty, I find the various secondary and auxiliary characters of SEED to be both more plausible and more entertaining, and I prefer dwelling on them for the most part. Kira, Athrun, Murrue, and Lacus are predictable, in the end, but the actions of the other characters are not as easily defined.

On the Marine transport, actually, there isn't a VIP shuttle in the _Mjolnr_'s TO&E. That's something the Admiralty Review kinda deprived the ship of a few hundred years prior to the first chapter. You are right about the appearance of neutrality, but remember that 'appearance' is not normally in Magi lexicon — a fact that other sides will eventually discover, and may use against them.

**Rickrolled**: You have my thanks for the longest review you have ever written. I laughed at your appraisal of Shinn, and I agree with it all the same, but given his caliber in Destiny it will take some serious horsepower to ground that fireball. Of course, he did get body-slammed into the ground head-first in the latter chapters of Flight of the Jokers Wild (original progression), but that encounter may not occur this time around. Who is to say that doesn't happen again, but who is to say it does happen again? I leave the thoughts of such a possible to you :)

On your more broad point about single machines and limited runs, you are absolutely correct. I have stated in forum debates before that Gundam does the whole prototype schtick completely ass-backwards. In real-world practice, a prototype machine is usually of lesser quality than the production machines, because a prototype is the testbed for the upcoming production model, and is intended to flog out the bugs before they begin production. This whole thing about 'mass of numbers' and 'lower production costs FTW' is complete bullshit in modern warfare, just read up on the battle of 73 Easting during the Desert Storm campaign and you'll see how well 'force of numbers' worked for the Iraqi Republican Guard. Oops.

**JC (Anon Review)**: Erm, what? This is a single-point crossover, I do the multi-point crossover in Archangel's Amazing Adventures. Or are you referring to something else?

* * *

The Gripe Sheet:

No gripes in prose from Chapter 15, thanks to my beta **Necroblade** for sorting that out.

* * *

Footnotes:

(1): **A**tmosphere-**S**pace **I**nterface, the boundary between the atmosphere and near space.

(2): In IRL nomenclature, C3 (typically shown as C3 with the 3 being a superscript (cube number)) stands for **C**ommand, **C**ontrol, and **C**ommunications, and usually refers to methods of gathering intelligence from sub-units and issuing orders to those sub-units. In Battletech, C3 usually refers to a special set of equipment for telemetry coordination between tactical units, and does not necessarily fit the classic definition of C3.

(3): **I**nertial **C**ontainment **F**usion, a method of fusion that relies on the superheating of Tritium by way of lasers or similar means to cause fusion. This is opposed to the more common but less energy efficient (at lower levels of output) Magnetic Containment Fusion. ICF reactors are impractical for military applications, as they have lower theoretical upperbounds of power generation and sustaining a reaction with ICF is more difficult than with MCF. The upside of ICF is that the reactor cannot 'go critical' in the same fashion as a MCF reactor, and each ICF reactor requires a lot less support equipment, technical skill and maintenance than an equivalent MCF.

(4): **Semtex** is a Czechoslovakia product, a variant of PETN and RDX high explosives mixed with a plasticizer to make it malleable and reformable. Favored by terrorists the world over because until recently it was nearly impossible to trace without eyes-on the explosive charge (no odors, vapors, or particulate residue to be picked up by explosive-sniffing dogs or machines). Similar in application to the ubiquitous C-4 explosives, Semtex is specifically NOT used in missile or ballistic applications because it cannot hold its shape under high pressure and force (a necessity of shape-charge applications, which is what most missiles are). Commonly used as a demolitions charge by engineers.

(5): **East**ern At**lant**ic


	17. Drinking Binges, Sober Reality

(Chapter 17: Drinking Binges, Sober Reality, Screaming Headache)

(22 November CE 71, 1215 hours UTC)  
(Southern staging base, USSA Brazil territory)

"All commands report ready status," Elizabeth ordered. Normally the support crew chief for Ed's unit, she was operating as the operations commander for all the forces.

"Alpha command, ready operation," Ed replied. The seven units he had in his direct command were all readied, shined up, and armed to the teeth. The other Argentine forces were also in his command net, but were somewhat more independent than common for military operations.

"Bravo, ready op," replied a somewhat laconic Brazilian commander. Easily the largest portion of the contingent, they had some mint-condition BuCUE units that had 'fallen off the back of the transport' as the old euphemism went. ZAFT had seen the value of helping the EA insurgents where needed, and Brazil was one of the first to receive that help.

"Charlie command, ready operations." Aptly enough, Charlie formation was the resistance from Chile, two companies of MS (1) including one Magi unit, a MS-09F/Trop Dom Tropen, built for jungle work and fast as hell on the ground.

"Delta command, ready for action," the Uruguay commander replied. His was a small command, a total of fourteen Mobile Suits, but they were superbly organized and well trained.

"Echo command, ready operations," the last of the formations (Bolivia) concluded. Smaller than the rest, they still had plenty of fang and bite for their task.

"Synchronize time, 1215 hours UTC."

"Check," a symphony of voices replied.

"All units, stand to," Ed Harrelson ordered. "Prepare for time-on-target barrage against static defenses. Missile weapons target the heavy gun emplacements."

Across the formations, each command parceled out its TOT orders by way of the advanced communication and coordination suites built into each MS. Descended of ancient technologies to do the same thing, the various Strike Dagger, Long Dagger, GINN, GuAIZ, and BuCUE units easily prepared to deal death in a span of seconds with a simple set of commands. There was risk, if the enemy had ELINT assets active in the base they might be able to detect the fire orders going out, but the margin of time worked in the rebel's favor. Ed had requested a veritable snap-shot from the units, with a twenty-second lead time before everything hit the targets.

As the timer counted down to five seconds, Ed noticed that the nearest EA Strike Dagger hunched down a bit, looking around as if to search out a threat. The forest was about to come alive with gunfire, and the enemy could not see the camouflaged rebel positions. He could only grimace at the thought; Ed had read the same manuals as these pilots, knew what to expect and how to counter it, but they were not following training or good practice. The forest line was only 500 meters from the base outer perimeter; there should be no trees of significance within 3 kilometers of the base, according to Earth Alliance regulations...

The various missiles and bazooka rounds went first, the weapons with the longest transit time of all. Less than a full second later, the heavy machine guns and various cannons let loose, the ballistic and missile weapons aimed primarily at strong-point defenses. The last to fire were the perversely most important, those aiming at the MS and armor forces with beam rifles and similar weapons. The timing of the attack was impeccable: the various attacks all arrived on target in the space of two seconds, achieving a tactical surprise on the defending force unmatched in any other campaign in South America.

"All forces, execute plan Alpha, go go go!" Elizabeth ordered immediately.

"MOVE UP!" Ed half-shouted, suiting his actions to his orders. In the moments thereafter, the edge of the forests came alive with activity, Mobile Suits and APCs in profusion began to swarm out and forward, spitting death at the enemy bunker positions.

With the bulk of the heavy gun emplacements eliminated on the south side, the battle began badly for the Earth Alliance forces; the greatest problems being from pilots nowhere near their Mobile Suits. Only a few perimeter sentries were out and about, less than a company of Mobile Suits total (1) and hardly a company of infantry sentries. A few of the infantry in the bunkers were fast on the trigger; of four anti-tank missiles launched, one hit Ed's machine but failed to penetrate the Trans-Phase armor. The response to those fast and defiant enough to try was a face full of 20mm cannon from the APCs, or in some cases the ministrations of a Mobile Suit pilot with his or her 75mm CIWS mounted in the machine's head.

"We got 'em by the ass! Move in!" Bravo commander shouted. He piloted a Strike Dagger like the bulk of his unit, but the commander was carrying a heavy weapons load instead of the typical single beam rifle. His Cattus recoilless rifle rounds were dispatched with excellent accuracy, though the shots were pathetically easy (under a kilometer range and fixed targets).

"We're in," a GINN pilot shouted after he kicked over the guard shack and gate to allow the APCs to enter easily. His 76mm MG came up, centered on the pilot's barracks for the Mobile Suits, and he loosed a burst of the HE-DP rounds into the cinder-block building just after someone threw the front door open. Who that attempted escapee was or what he intended became lost in the moment his body was conflicted by a transiting 76mm round. Likewise, his friends and comrades had little warning as the building was sundered by high explosive projectiles, though more than a third of them were still asleep and remained that way even in death.

"Two from the MS Hangar, I got 'em," Echo Four noted. The pilot of the mysterious Gundam Mk. II (SZ Mod) had thrown in with the southern forces, despite his team heading north, though he didn't explain why clearly. Still, Ed was grateful for the fierce presence and skills, demonstrated by taking two of the enemy machines down with a single blast of the Beam Shotgun carried by his Gundam. "Two tangos down, who's next?"

"Control, Alpha One reporting mission progress as follows: primary objective one, force entry to base, completed. Other objectives pending at this time."

"Alpha One, Control, good copy. Continue operations at discretion. Recon assets do not have track on enemy reinforcements, no ETA available."

Ed simply clicked his radio off and on, which generated a spike of static as response. In the time it took Control to respond a third Strike Dagger had started up and began moving, though the Gundam Mk. II was elsewhere and Ed had to see to it. Though facing off against an experienced pilot, the range evened the playing field for the Earth Alliance soldier. Ed barely had his crosshairs on target before his machine took an off-center beam rifle hit that disabled his entire left arm. Despite this, Ed took the impact and recentered his aimpoint before the enemy could take his next shot. The blast from the Scylla heavy beam cannon landed center chest above the 'sternum' and just below the neck, though in the end it looked like a decapitation shot. The head of the Strike Dagger rolled backward and fell off the machine as it collapsed forward to its knees and then to the ground.

"Control, Alpha Five, Alpha One is hit, minor damage sustained. List primary objective two as complete, we have infantry and two MS inside the enemy hangar."

"Alpha Five, Control, good copy and damn good results. That's half the shooting match already, and all in our favor. Continue operations at discretion."

"Control, Delta One reporting artillery positions have been secured, we are laying down suppressing fire on the backs of the east-side bunkers and positions at this time. No casualties sustained at this time. List primary objective three as completed."

"Oh shit! Armor forces from the northeast quadrant!"

"Damn," Ed muttered. He knew the one chancy part of the battle plan would be the Linear Tanks, since their kazerne (2) and facilities were located farthest away from the breach point. They would have the best opportunity to gear up and organize of all the defenders. "Bravo Command, Alpha Command, can you move against the armor forces?"

"Way ahead of you, Ed, my boys are movin' in on 'em now." Despite this declaration, Ed watched as first one, then two more machines took fatal hits from the enemy tanks. The two sides traded fire for thirty seconds, even to the point that Ed joined in the fray; yet the battle was hopelessly one-sided. The rebels had better training and arguably better equipment, leaving not much in the way of hope for the tank rush.

"Kekekekeke," one of the Delta Team pilots chuckled with his hand on the radio switch.

"Less laughing, Mueller," Delta One ordered. "Command, Delta One reporting enemy armor forces silenced. Casualties sustained to Bravo, Charlie and Delta elements, six MS down. List objective as completed."

"This just isn't adding up," Ed groused. "We're not getting much resistance anywhere on base. Infantry, Alpha Command, have you taken prisoners yet?"

"Shitloads of 'em, sir," one of the Infantry Lieutenants said. "Want me to goose one for some logic and reason?"

"Make it a small goose, they haven't done anything technically wrong," Ed ordered.

"Roger that. Wait one."

"Alpha One from Alpha Seven, support facilities have been captured, all armored resistance neutralized. Infantry has entered base command bunker and is clearing now, ETA two minutes."

"Roger that."

"Alpha One, Infantry 37," the same Lieutenant prompted.

"Go," Ed replied immediately.

"These guys are saying they've been cut off from command in Manaus and have been told that at least one base and more than half the reinforcements are dead. Half of them say it was God's doing, the other half say it was just a freak debris drop, but none of 'em are in good spirits. When we assaulted, it broke morale almost immediately."

"They would have run, but there is nowhere to run in this situation," Ed replied. "No wonder it wasn't adding up, they have no heart for the battle today."

"Alpha One, Alpha Seven, we have the base command facility captured. All forces have been ordered to stand down. This battle is ours."

-x-x-x-

(22 November CE 71, 1400 hours UTC)  
(Cargo Deck two, Dropship _Sailboat Reborn_)

"It would appear that we both had to await instructions from our heads of state to begin our end of the negotiations," Chairman-to-be Durandal said as he took his seat opposite his counterpart for this negotiation.

"We see no need to delay on this issue, and ZAFT has shown significant honor in the primary negotiations, therefore we can begin," Star Colonel Wilhelm declared.

"Very well, where do we begin?" Chairman Durandal asked.

"First off, we begin by defining the scope of the project," Wilhelm replied evenly. "It is easiest to accomplish the task when you know what you want to do."

"Indeed," Durandal mused. "Definitely a full facility akin to Mendel's lab, what would you say would be a decent floor figure for that?"

"Just the gestation facilities, or gestation and a research lab?" Wilhelm asked to clarify, since he was doing both out of his lab.

"Both I would think; it would be easiest to do the research co-located with the gestation facilities."

"Okay, then what you are going to want is a minimum of two sets of canisters," Wilhelm said. "In common practice you never have all your canisters running all the time, that way you have extra system capacity in case something goes wrong and you need to transfer a fetus from a dying canister to one that is working."

"Ah," Durandal replied, never having considered that. "Also, you can maintain the iron wombs that are not in use on a fairly lenient time frame, if I do not miss my guess."

"You are correct," Wilhelm nodded. "Usually the only thing that is subject to wear and tear is the pumping and filtration system, and that not significant. The whole loop is fairly low-pressure, low-volume in terms of industrial pumping equipment, so it takes a while to wear one out. Otherwise, just a good cleaning between uses and scheduled FRU replacements, call it ten hours downtime per canister per rotation. With that, it is possible to run a three-to-one rotation easily, with a relatively small tasking of technicians to see to the canisters on the down end of the rotation."

"Three gestations active and one set of cans down?" Durandal asked in clarification, to which Wilhelm nodded affirmative. "And in that case, how many gestations can be supported at a time?"

"Well, the largest Eugenics operation is The Illyaris Genetic Foundation, the direct rival to the Magi's Master Genetic Archive. The Illyaris team does a nine-up-three-down staggered rotation schema, and at any given time has about 81,000 in cycle and 9000 births a month. They are the undisputed heavyweights in the numbers category, but this isn't a numbers game. The Magi Master Genetic Archive does thing a bit different, they use a five-up-two-down schema in two-month intervals, with a three-week equipment stress test before the gestation begins and four months downtime per set. It may not be as efficient with the equipment as the 3-to-1 or 9-to-3 ratios, or commercial ventures that use the 9-to-1 ratio, but again this is not a number game."

"I would prefer accuracy over efficiency," Durandal declared without a moment's hesitation. "These are future human beings we are planning for, taking chances is not in my orders. How are you planning on doing Mendel?"

"Three up and two down, since we have five sets of Canisters to work with at the GARM facility." There was no trace of smugness to Wilhelm's statement, just the professional pride one expected at this level.

"If we could dedicate, say, a facility twice the size of GARM to the project, would a 9-3 rotation be feasible?"

"Indeed, easily," Wilhelm mused. "Call it 120 canisters, 90 active and thirty down, with rotation blocks of ten canisters at a time. Sound about right?"

"I think that is sufficient," Durandal replied calmly. Inside the back of his head, the math was working out to a number that could possibly save the ZAFT population in less than two generations. From a political standpoint, it could be nitroglycerine waiting for a small impact, but if done right it could be much-needed salvation from the detriments of the Earth Alliance.

"Okay, 120 on the production end, so that comes out to 60 technicians for the canisters, 20 general technicians, 75 lab techs, 15 gestation scientists, a minimum of one gestation research scientist, preferably two, and the sundry office and facilities personnel." While Wilhelm was talking, he was writing down the requirements on a notepad. "That's the gestation side, so that leaves the research side."

"What does that normally entail?"

"Generally? About the same as a doctor's office and research clinic combined. When we Magi do these things, any medical services except emergency services are handled through the research arm, makes it easier to collect and collate research data. So, assuming you go whole hog from the word 'go', and assuming you pull tracking at 25 years, your upperbound at full swing will be 3000, plus or minus. Every five years extended tracking comes out to an extra 600 tracked at any given time, so we're talking a rather impressive facility just on the research side."

"One doctor to 100 or so?" Durandal opined as a decent figure to present for the project final budget.

"Okay, that works, so 30 doctors, call it 90 nurses, and your usual office personnel collection."

"You were right, this is not a small undertaking," Gilbert Durandal gaped at the expected size of the project. "But the numbers speak for themselves. A modest outlay of personnel and facilities can produce such powerful results. And, more to the point, some of this can be doubled into the existing coordinator research programs or vice versa, which would simplify a lot of the processes involved in both."

"Consolidating programs into one?" Durandal nodded at the intention. "It can be done, and actually might improve the cost per capita of the facility."

"Anything else we need to consider for the scope of the project?" Durandal asked, unsure if that was it.

"No, now that we have the operations concept, the facility and equipment requirements are next."

-x-x-x-

(22 November CE 71, 1515 hours UTC)  
(Gigafloat Rail Launcher Facility and Mobile Dockyard)

"Another Dropship, another sixty thousand tons," the forklift crew chief declared sourly.

"Since Mendel's started delivering here, using the Gigafloat as a cargo transfer point, I ain't got one damned day off," James noted sourly.

"Yeah, but think of all the OT pay you're getting," one of the other 'Forkers' noted with a forced cheery tone. He wanted some shore leave just as much as the next guy, and the only person he was fooling was himself.

"Fat lot of good that does me out here in the middle of nowhere," James replied acidly. _And I'm making more selling intel to the EA on this floating hunk of steel and the Dropships than you make in a year with overtime, pussy_, he thought but did not say.

Finding disaffected Junkers was not a difficult task for Blue Cosmos. Keeping them in places where they could be of use was more difficult, since the Junk Guild tended to move people around more than other organizations would. Thankfully, about the only skill James had was the ability to drive a forklift, and those were in demand on the Gigafloat. So long as he didn't 'fork himself in the wanker' (forklift operators tended to have their own sense of humor), he was pretty much guaranteed a long-term position and a decent paygrade from both his employers.

"Look, guys, I've already put in requests for leave for practically all of us, but as long as Mendel's bringing in hot goods and materials for trade we'll be busy. Probably too busy to take any leave. I've also requested that Mendel try and find a way to pick up some of the slack, but no word yet."

"We'll probably be doing the dirty work into perpetuity," James groused before he mounted his forklift.

"Attention all hands, the Dropship from Mendel will be landing in five minutes. Requested turnaround time is 9-0 minutes, with 7-0 of that being cargo transfer and refueling. All offload personnel please report to ready station bravo."

-x-

"Attention Crimson Guard, this is the loadmaster. I want you off the ship and out of the way in a big hurry. You have two Cargomechs headed out first, then you have thirty seconds to get your entire formation out that door. Any questions?"

"Who crammed the dildo up his ass?" Ami asked sarcastically but not on the general frequency. If the loadmaster could sound any more pissed off, how was lost on her.

"No questions, sir. We're gone at first possible. Marines, check in and mount up."

"Marines 1, mounting now." "Marines two," "Marines Three," "Marines Four," "Marine Snipers," they reported in series.

The Omnimechs were engineered to take the weight of the extra troopers, and only a minor strain from the five tons extra (applied) weight was evident to the pilots; the Blood Asp hardly noticed at all that it had been mounted by five Armored Marines.

"All hands, arriving at the Gigafloat. Touchdown in 3-0 seconds. We have a 9-0 minute turnaround time, so we need to coordinate with the Gigafloat loader personnel and get the material moving fast."

"Thirty seconds, people, then ten seconds after that we move," Tiffany said. On loading and unloading operations, Mendel personnel did not screw around. Time is money to everyone involved, including the mercenaries.

The final landing alarm went off seconds before they touched down. The familiar sound of a Dropship settling down on the oblate base of the engine cells presaged the doors opening.

"It is a glorious view," Rick noted.

"Never been to Terra, have you?" Tiffany asked. "We move!" She ordered after the second Cargomech began moving.

"Neg, this is my first time on the Cradle of Humanity."

"These bloody dipshits in BC don't have a clue what they truly hold," Jessie noted. "Less than a quarter of humanity, and even less than that in other sentients, ever get to see this planet up close or from its surface. Thousands of people would give parts of their anatomy to see this planet even from orbit, and all these fucktards can think about is killing people. Such a waste."

"Freaking obnoxious weather, already reading temps upwards of 40 degrees. That's going to play hell with our heat sinks."

"Better than magmatic planets by a long shot, though," Rick replied, his Naga being the last machine out of the Dropship.

-x-

Despite the fact that he hated the constant work pressure when working on Dropships (Mendel ran on a very tight schedule, tighter than even Express Freight outfits), there was always a mystique to them that James could not shake. The massive globe, almost 240 meters spherical, came down hot for the bulk of the time they were seen in transit, then slowed down hard just before the landing. The actual landing was always odd, and seemed counter-intuitive to the ground support personnel. The legs would extend down below the engine housing, reaching out for the ground, then the engine would cut pressure until the legs touched, then the whole thing sunk down until the engine bottom touched the ground. To James, it always seemed that the legs were either spurious or needed only be deployed after the ship was resting on its arse.

"C'mon, Forkers, we've got a lot of freight to move!" The section lead stood up in his forklift and waved his arm in the universal 'move it up' gesture.

As was typical, the forklifts moved to and lined up near their assigned doors (each door on the cargo Dropships were numbered for easy load/unload access), and waited for the first deluge of Mendel transport to head out. These first two out of door three were, as expected, Cargomechs. Their lift capacity was impressive, as was their sheer mobility, but their size caused problems with some of the facilities. This went as expected, until...

"Sweet Jesus, what is that thing?"

"Mobile Suit?" James asked, just as confused by it. He admitted only to himself that the sheer menace of the monstrous thing almost made him crap his pants; for all his bravado, he had never been close enough to a combat unit to actually see the detail and sheer size of it.

And it had friends – four more, though each was smaller than the first. "I dunno, I don't think so. No shield or hand-carried weapons. Probably something else."

"Whatever it is, it came from Mendel, which means it be pretty badass," the senior Forker on James' team noted. "Man, when those things come, it really does shake the earth!"

James couldn't resist the laugh from the old pervert joke retooled for this circumstance.

-x-

"Gigafloat staging, this is Crimson Guard, requesting vector to hangar area," Tiffany requested on the Gigafloat's open channel.

"Crimson Guard, Gigafloat Ground Tower. The MS bay is down Taxi 2, large structure appropriately labeled. Marshallers are already waiting to park your units. Welcome aboard."

"A pleasure to be here, Ground," Tiffany replied. "Guard, Command, form up and prepare to march. Column formation, standard spacing."

"Roger that," Ami confirmed immediately.

Finding their way to the taxiway was simple, then taking it down the way was even simpler. The Ground Tower had cleared all traffic from that route for the reason that one of the team said best: "375 tons of whoopass stomping by" would probably be very rough on any vehicle traffic in the way.

The buildings bordering Taxi 2 were all vehicle bays and cargo sorting points, with low-boy trailers moving back and forth heavily loaded with cargo. Even as the Dropship unloaded, other cargo ships were coming in to be loaded with the take from Mendel or to send materials up into space. Tiffany had heard the Dropship's next destination would be the Orb space station _Ame No Mihashira, _then onward to Mendel with a few kilotons of food, then to ZAFT territory with more food. About halfway down the island, they came to the structure in destination, the Mobile Suit Bay. They also arrived just as a work detail was heading out in Works GINN units.

"Erm, whoa," a rather meek voice commented on the primary Gigafloat channel.

"Don't worry about us, we're just headin' in to park. Workers have the right of way until the shooting starts," James commented.

"You say so," the pilot of the lead Works GINN commented before the trio cleared the door and turned south on Taxi 2.

"Marines, drop off and head in," Tiffany ordered. As the lead Omnimech began walking forward to the hangar again, the twenty-five Marines dropped off the 'Mechs and landed hard to conserve jump jet fuel, organized and began their march toward their new home. Once inside they immediately moved to the right and out of the way so the 'Mechs could be parked without stepping on a Marine.

The evolution of parking the machines was simple and straightforward: each of the machines squared up to their new cubicle, turned around, and slowly walked backwards into position. Nothing spectacular. James, being the lead pilot out of the unit, was naturally first to park and first to shut down, which also meant he was the first out of his cockpit. "You the commander?" the technician assigned to his machine asked just after James had both feet on the catwalk deck.

"Nah, the commander is in that one," and he pointed to the second-smallest machine in the unit, the 65-ton Caludron-Born omnimech. "What can I help ya with?"

"I thought the commanders always rode the largest machines," the Tech sounded almost peevish at the thought.

-x-

"Hell no," the pilot replied. "They send the knuckle-draggers or the unlucky ones out in the biggest machines, to take and dish the most punishment. The commanders usually take the unassuming smaller machines so they can maneuver on the enemy and press advantages where needed."

Woody, the tech assigned to this machine, grimaced at the thought. He was sure this was going to be the commander's machine, though on second thought it wasn't such a bad detail working on this one. The pilot sounded like he'd been around the block a few times and it was the largest hunk of hardware he had ever seen. A lot bigger than the GINN units he was working on, though not taller. It was squat and fat, but if he didn't miss his guess most of that was armor and weapons.

"That...well, it does make some sense; put the large, heavy machines out front and run in on 'em while distracted, right?"

"That's one plan kid," the pilot popped his helmet, though the locking lug for it was in an unusual place, below the rim of the neck armor behind the head. With the metallic helmet removed, Woody was treated to the first really freaky sight of his life, the pilot had a weird set of face tattoos. "Actually, a little better an option would be to put the heavy ones out front, use the artillery 'mech to pound them into the ground, then use the lighter machines to flank 'em and finish the fight. But, it's all in her hands," and he pointed to the pilot emerging from the Cauldron-born. "She be the boss, so we go where she says to go."

It still didn't make much sense to Woody, but he didn't argue the point. These guys knew what they were doing, and he figured if he wanted a shot at actually driving Mobile Suits or such he had to learn from them what it took. He wanted out of the fixing business, much despite characteristically good performance as a technician.

"Anyway, which way to the pilot's quarters? I could stand to get out of my PA and into some real clothes. We also need to have a little chat about this monster," the pilot's jerk of the thumb toward his machine was indication enough.

"I'm ready for it, sir, all I need to do is figure out how to work on your guys' systems," Woody replied dutifully, and was puzzled why the pilot had a savage grin for a response.

"Kid, you know how I said they usually put the knuckle-draggers or the unlucky in assault 'mechs? That sometimes also applies to the machine itself..."

-x-x-x-

(22 November CE 71, 1700 hours UTC)  
(Cargo Deck One, Dropship _Sailboat Reborn_)

So far, her work with a camera had netted her 5000 Earth-dollars for two days worth of pictures; but Miriallia Haw was not one hundred percent devoted to the reporting aspect of her presence. She had to help clean up the negotiations before they imploded and started the war anew. Jess Rabble had made more in his first 10 hours of reporting than she had made in two days, but at least she was trying to solve the problem instead of provide color commentary on it.

Strangely the Magi (Mendel, she corrected herself mentally), were paying for some of her picture take, and the Star Colonel assigned to her side of the negotiations was not actively trying to slaughter her or Jess Rabble. Given the institutional disdain of press among Magi – Mendel – military personnel, she was surprised they even allowed reporters on the ship. Unless something else was at hand, which Miriallia would not put past the Magi; she did not subscribe to the school of thought that considered Wayne Centara to be a muscle-head, fit for military command and nothing more than that. Wayne was far too slick to be just a Star Admiral; he had to be assigned to this shit detail for some reason well beyond sight of the average person.

And Miriallia wanted to find that reason out, but for now she had to content herself to the Interstellar Transport Conference and negotiations.

"Literally, within three standard jumps of Terra, each such jump being 30 light years, there are over two dozen inhabitable planets. That is almost a given; we thus far have not found a dimension with stars and planets that did not have at least a 1-in-5 inhabitable planet quotient," the Star Colonel repeated for the less sophisticated at the table. Though the ZAFT, Orb, and Scandinavia representatives had heard and understood the first time, the Equatorial and Earth Alliance reps were not registering the basic math of the matter. "And, of course with a little work, you can make most the other systems feasible for colonization and exploitation."

"What about land rights for natives?" the Equatorial Representative asked.

"If you're referring to non-humans on those planets, perish the thought. Out of billions of dimensions and trillions of planets, the Magi have ever only encountered about a dozen non-human groups with any notable intelligence, and in some cases the word 'intelligence' is stretching definitions. If you think conditions on Terra are bad, there are a lot more planets infinitely more Darwinian in terms of what lives and what dies." That revelation was good for a burst of chatting from the academician persons in the conference. "We have found ruins aplenty, living sentients very few. If you were to kill the extraterrestrial equivalent of a cow, I would be hard pressed to lose sleep over it."

"But what about the environments? What about the animals on those planets?" A Junk Guild rep asked.

"What about them?" the Mage asked in counter. "We Magi try hard to avoid environmental impact as much as possible. It would be pretty good practice for any party to avoid environmental impact, but a planet can sustain a lot of 'abuse' without ill effect. Still and all, there are millions of inhabitable planets per galaxy, and at least one galaxy per dimension that is easy to get to; provided there are stars and galaxies in said dimension of course. In less than 50 years you will need that extra real-estate, unless you want to confine humanity to one world and the surrounding near-space."

"We could use it right now," the Earth Alliance rep replied. "I do not properly understand why we are going back over this, we covered these matters yesterday and the day prior."

"Agreed," the Mendel rep replied. "It would be preferable that we move forward with operations planning for this matter, the sciences or ethics of the matter are fairly writ."

"Where do we begin?" the ZAFT representative asked.

"The first thing to really consider is a proper shipyard. I have prepared an initial proposal for a small but advanced facility capable of constructing and repairing up to two ships at 750,000 tons per ship, or a quantity of smaller ships. I will warn you, the facility will not be cheap. The price tag will be akin to the Ptolemaeus Military Base in facility costs but not personnel or unit costs."

The Earth Alliance representative whistled. "420 billion Earth-dollars or so?"

"Or about 85 billion C-bills, give or take. The bulk of the cost of the facility is in the two pressurized construction bays for ships. I went through and cut out a lot of the fat on the design, typical Magi-style over-engineering, but it is a big mother of a station and a costly one at that. Still and all, if you want to cut the production cost and time required, a single outlay for a shipyard will save us all a lot of time, treasury, and headache."

"You're saying you can build one of these ships without a shipyard?"

"Oh yes," the feral smile from the Star Colonel was something that caused cringes around the table; it usually presaged said officer tearing a chunk out of someone's arse. "You can build a Jumpship without a proper orbital facility to house and coordinate the project. It will take about triple the time to complete the ship, will cost a helluva lot more in manpower, may cost more in machining and material transport requirements, and I would not want to take a trip on that Jumpship when all is said and done." There were a few grumbles at the last comment. "To explain, the likelihood of a jump core failure is about four times greater in ships not built in a proper shipyard with a proper Jump Engineer to supervise. The core of the ship has to be extremely precise for it to function properly; lose that precision, you lose your life."

"Okay, so we go with the shipyard," ZAFT replied. "How do we determine who gets the ships? And who gets access to the facility, for that matter."

"Access to the facility will be moderately restricted, but based on personnel, not on government. The facility is intended as a working Shipyard station, not as a tourist attraction, so uninvolved civilians will have to obtain permission to enter. As to who gets the ships, well, we will begin with four ships, civilian-model Jumpships; one of them will be Mendel, the other three ships are up for initial bid. After that, interested parties can bid for the space, or you can choose to take the hit and build your own shipyard. I am authorized to disseminate full plans for the shipyard, but I should make mention that there are very few people on or around this planet that can do the necessary engineering on the jump core. If you're going to do it yourself, you'd better be willing to pay top dollar for their expertise."

And that was the rub in one sentence, Miriallia could tell. Someone had to engineer the Jump Core, and the only people that even knew the theory behind it were in Mendel — probably part of the Mendel Armed Forces, if she didn't miss her guess. "What about the smaller nations? No way Equatorial can outbid ZAFT or the Earth Alliance for dock space," Miriallia commented.

"If Orb, Equatorial and Scandinavia put a contract bid out for one of the bays, I'll bet you would win it on a total bid package," the ZAFT representative replied. "And that's just three of the nations I could think of that would want options on a ship."

"Okay, assuming we go ahead with such a project – Orb, Scandinavia, and Equatorial," Colonel Kisaka began, then stymied. It took him a second to regain momentum. "Assuming we win the bid and have the ship produced. Who crews the ship, who navigates the ship?"

"Short answer, you can derive the crew how you want," the Star Colonel replied. "Once the ship is shaken down, certified ready, and out of the bay from its official launch ceremony, it is no longer our affair." That caused a bit of a ripple among the representatives, as more than half were sure that Mendel would want a piece of every ship it produced. "When we hand the ship over to the financing party or parties, you may do with it whatever you want. Personal advice: keep it moving, a Jumpship that sits idle costs its parent organization a helluva lot. Even if you are doing short-haul or triangle trades, anything is better than nothing. As to Jump Navigation, when you commission a ship you may also send a crew to Mendel for training. I would prefer the Jump Navigator position be filled by someone who knows at least the basics of interplanetary navigation, preferably the theory behind interstellar orbital mechanics and navigation. Training a crew will take about as long as it will take to manufacture the ship; these ships are not colony-jumpers, and they are not Monitors. There is nothing that quite compares to jumping between stars and between dimensions. The officer assigned to that detail will need a lot of training for it."

"All right, what else needs to happen for this project?" the Earth Alliance rep asked.

_Eager beaver, aren't we_? Miriallia asked inside the confines of her mind, unconsciously mirroring the same thought from the Star Colonel.

"The Jump Core is mostly germanium, with titanium and a few other metals within. The Jump Initiator is germanium, titanium, and carbon. The basic core package sits inside a liquid helium bath for superconductivity purposes. Now, add to that the Jump Solenoid and Solenoid Runners used in the more advanced drives built by the Star Empires for long-distance jumping and interdimensional travel. The solenoid is typically titanium, platinum, and carbide, the runners are platinum, germanium, carbon, and rhenium to withstand extreme charges and still be able to modulate the jump. In any case, you're talking hundreds of thousands of tons of material to produce a respectable Jumpship engine. Right now, the only place to get that kind of material is the asteroid belt and a couple of Jupiter's moons. So, the next logical step is while the station is under construction the conduit for necessary resources needs to be established and mining operations begin in earnest."

"And how much material will be needed per ship?"

"Assuming we go with the initial design I have recommended, 200,000 tons of mixed metals per ship, four ships total comes out to 800,000 tons,"

"And the expected cost per ship?" the Equatorial Representative asked quietly.

"After production manpower estimates, 590 million C-bills per ship."

"Is there...anything smaller?" the Scandinavian rep asked.

"Erm," the Star Colonel hesitated, having to think hard on such a request. "The absolute smallest known Jumpship is the _Astro-Flea_ class of Jumpships. 50,000 tons, built back before the Silver Millennium / Star League era. Even being that small, it still comes in with a price tag of 275 million or so. It's old technology, so there is room for improvement. If you want, that is the initial direction we can take."

"Still costs more than most of our warships," the Earth Alliance rep replied, almost disheartened of the realization.

"Dancing among the stars is not a trivial exercise," the Star Colonel noted warily. "It has its costs, and it has some serious drawbacks. The threat of subjecting someone to repeated jumps can make even the tightest criminals and spies talk fast, just as one example. Done right, however, it is how Star Empires are born. The question to everyone at this table is simple: who wants in, who wants out?" It went without saying that such a goal would take hundreds, possibly thousands of years, but the challenge hung in the air nonetheless: who wanted to try?

Miriallia needed only look around the table to take count. Few rejected the thought; most were passive, but she could tell the bulk of them were planning ten steps ahead along this path. She had no clue what Mendel's rationale for releasing this capability was, but she suspected the outcome would be very ugly and wholly in Mendel's favor. After all, 'bait and switch' needed bait to work right, and Mendel just dropped a metric assload of bait into the water; all that remained was the 'switch' yet to be revealed...

-x-x-x-

(23 November CE 71, 0500 hours UTC)  
(Guest Quarters, ZAFT Warship _Voltaire_)

"Talk to me," Eileen Canaver ordered.

"On my side, everything is green," Durandal replied immediately. "The Magi have agreed to provide technical assistance and the initial specialty hardware for a full Eugenics facility."

"And that is one way around the current genetic stumbling block we just encountered," Eileen referred to the problem with reproduction rates falling off among third-generation Coordinators, where the whole bloodheritage of those persons were pure Coordinator.

"More than that, Wilhelm was able to identify what went wrong and how to fix it," Gilbert sounded a bit chafed at the thought, insofar as he ever sounded chafed about anything. Eileen allowed him the reservation, for his specialty was genetics and he had been called on it by the Magi.

"What is the problem?" Eileen asked, her natural curiosity diverting her from the core of the meeting.

"Immune systems," Durandal replied. "It is a biological technicality that the means to reproduce are considered a foreign material inside the female," Durandal continued artfully, sparing any early-morning blunt perversity. "As Coordinators advance through continued generations, straight-Coordinator immune systems become increasingly more powerful, to the point that a fifth or sixth generation Coordinator should be immune to biological weapons," which was an entirely welcomed holy grail to stumble upon as far as most geneticists were concerned, except for the side effect. To whit: "The flip side of that immunity is the elimination of foreign matter in the body..."

"Ah," Eileen replied, realizing what the crux of the problem was. "There is such a thing as too powerful a defense."

"The Magi ran into that roadblock long ago," Durandal recalled from his discussions of the matter with Star Colonel Wilhelm. "The solution is simple in concept, rather intricate in execution. It is possible to strike a balance that does not compromise reproduction but does allow for increasing potency in immunity to diseases. We will have access to that data within 24 hours of signing of the treaty."

"All right," Eileen replied. In effect, Mendel had solved not one but two problems for ZAFT in that one stroke. "What word of the other second-tier conferences?"

"Asteroid Mining mostly broke even from its position the day before yesterday. However, I have a feeling that something will break loose today, given the results of the other major player in the undercards."

"Interstellar travel," it was a declaration, and a cold one at that. "What is their game, Talia?"

"I must admit I do not know," Talia replied. She was 'coordinating' the action between the second-tier representatives, but thus far had not taken part in any of the negotiations in an official capacity. "The only thing I can come up with is some form of distraction, but it does not make sense on the face of it. If you are going to distract someone, would it not be preferable to distract away from your best capabilities, instead of drawing attention to them?"

"Different priorities?" Yzak Joule prompted.

"Maybe," Durandal replied. "If that is the case, then what is their priority?"

"No clue," Eileen Canaver admitted.

"I have not heard anything," Talia replied.

"I have a possibility," Yzak admitted. "I was talking to a Star Captain two days ago, and he explained something to me that I don't think quite got through to anyone at the cease-fire summit."

Everyone in the room stared at him for a moment in the silence. "Go on," Eileen half ordered, half entreated.

"They are here because some unknown force blew seven shades of, erm, disgusting matter out of their forces. They suffered more casualties in four hours of battle with those robot forces than we suffered in Mobile and Naval forces losses at Jachin Due. They have to replace those forces, and they have to get word to their command elements that something smashed them. Therefore, I believe the desire to get interstellar and interdimensional jump projects going is both direct planning and distraction on their part. Direct planning, in that they must have some way to get word back to their commanders. Distraction, in that while we are busy building and playing with Jumpships, they are busy building a force that would otherwise look like an instrument intended to eliminate us."

"Using the devils they have happened across to do the Gods' work," Durandal said, using a religious aphorism to drive his point home. "Ingenious plan, and they may be able to pull it off while looking completely innocent."

"I think they are innocent in this equation, sir," Yzak opined. Raised eyebrows from the three senior officers provided enough question. "Look at the objective facts. One, they have a huge amount of capability – by which I mean fighters, MS, and mobile armors – but no pilots. Their records show that they were able to recover a lot of their damaged equipment but they lost a lot of pilots. Strictly speaking, the machine is not dangerous without a mind to control it."

"I'll buy that," Talia admitted. The others nodded agreement.

"Second point: their total deployable ground forces amounts to one galaxy of Marines, one galaxy of Battlemechs, maybe a galaxy of Mobile Suits – that last is being wildly optimistic, my present best guess is more like three clusters – and about three clusters of Aerofighters. From a force correlation standpoint, the absolute best they could do with a force of that size that is South America or Oceania, and either of those would be stretching it paper-thin for the Magi. If they wanted to take and hold territory around here, another thirty Dropships of mixed assault forces would have gone a very long way to achieving world domination." It was widely known that the _Mjolnr_ had about thirty open Dock Collars, completely unused transport capacity.

"What about their much-touted suborbital bombardment capabilities?" Talia asked.

Yzak shook his head emphatically. "Same problem. They could use their ships to clear the lands of hostile forces, no problem. Not a thing we could do to stop them, same with the Earth Alliance or any other player around. Then what?" he asked rhetorically. "They still only have less than ten percent of the necessary forces to take and hold a notable amount of land, regardless of how much warship support they have. Size has its advantages, and the one thing Mendel does not have is size."

"Except the _Mjolnr_," Durandal pointed out evenly.

"And that is point three against malicious intent from Mendel. If they intended anything really nefarious, right after Jachin Due would have been the best possible time. They had just system shocked both the major players of the war, and all it would have taken was a discreet HPG code-group to bring in a few more metric, erm, loads of forces to seal the deal. Nothing happened. Further, it would have been a technically simple exercise for them to drop their forces off, jump out, collect more forces and jump back in for the coup de main **if** they wanted to run the whole operation off one ship. By all accounts, there are several hundred thousand _Phalanx_-class ships throughout their Empire, so I doubt it would have been a big deal for three or four ships loaded heavy to swing by and ruin our day."

"Okay, message received," Talia replied. She had thought the same thing in disparate blurbs from time to time, reinforced by what her Bondsman had said about the matter, but never in one exposition. Strung together, it made a very creepy sort of sense: they could kill off any nation-state they wanted, but they had not. They may have been able to communicate with their homeworld or return to it, but they had not. They may have been able to return home, but they had not. Theoretically, it was possible that they were telling the unvarnished truth...

"What's the summary?" Eileen asked.

"Dispense with the conspiracy theories," Yzak said deadpan. "If they wanted us dead, we would have been dead long ago. They are not going to kill us because that is not in their game plan. Same applies to the Earth Alliance: if Mendel wanted them dead, they could have scoured Ptolemaeus and North America down to bedrock, end of story. They're trying to get home so they can tell the rest of their Empire something evil this way comes. Institutionally, they don't care what we do to each other, again because it does not affect their end game. At the same time, they are human and they do want to try and make sure we don't get killed off by racist terrorists, but that is not quite their main goal."

There was silence in the room for more than a minute. "Okay, Yzak Joule, you just made Commander, my authority," Eileen said. "If you're willing to think that hard about the other players in this most dangerous game, your talent is being wasted just driving a captured Gundam," she answered the half-protest from Talia. "Now, tell me what happens if they reestablish contact with the Magi."

"For them, or for us?" Yzak asked in clarification.

"Both," she replied diffidently.

"For them, it is simple. Mendel is a Protectorate of the Magi, duly established by a stranded force – a naval fleet and its sub-units. As such it will probably become a permanent addition to the Empire, normalized trade, recognized economy, rotating force structures, the works. If we play nice with Mendel, it is very likely we would be recognized as an 'honorable party' or something similar when their bosses do arrive. That happens, we could possibly be looking at induction into the Star League. Think of that as a combination mutual defense treaty, free trade treaty, free and rationalized expansion treaty, and a few other interesting perks. If we joined that merry band, the Earth Alliance could not possibly be stupid enough to piss off six major Star Empires and about ten thousand minor ones. It would be the penultimate death warrant for Blue Cosmos and their parent government, should they openly attack us. If I remember what Talia's bondsman said about the Star League charter, terrorism that can be equivocally linked to a nation-state is considered an attack by agents of that state and is therefore an undeclared act of war, which is operable under the mutual defense clauses of the charter."

"That's a pretty decent best-case scenario," Durandal replied. "Worst case?"

"Worst case, we get along with the Magi, but we don't enter into any formal treaty. Even still, just having routine message services and Warship visits here would have a chilling effect on BC. Rotating patrol ships or task forces have more capabilities than the _Mjolnr_, and reinforcements are only a hyperpulse message away. In such a case, Blue Cosmos may be able to kill a lot of people if they do their job right, but when the Magi get wind of what happened, you can expect a seven-digit kill count on terrorists in the near future after such an incident."

"Okay, I want some ideas on how to make this reality," Eileen ordered of the assembled officers. "We can accomplish much without undue interference from Blue Cosmos if we take a position that allies us with the neutral parties and Mendel. I want ways to make that happen; it may look like we are hitching a ride on Mendel's coat-tails, but I really don't see a way to keep them out of our interests without some extra help."

"The Jumpship project takes a very high priority," Yzak opined as an opening position. "We can cover that one fairly easily: George Glenn was the first human to pass the asteroid belt and return. ZAFT will be the first to Jump to Tau Ceti from this world. Logical procession, and good motivation for the civilians."

Eileen nodded, welcoming the logic and the propaganda of the intent. "Gilbert?"

"Open trade of goods, resources, information, and influence," he presented. "We focus on our objectives, but we help them along on theirs just as they are doing for us. Some of that would be necessarily visible; call that joint ventures if you want, realpolitik otherwise. The rest, we can probably keep under the table, or 'black' in operations parlance."

Eileen nodded, expecting as much from someone in the room. "Talia?"

"Gilbert stole my idea," Talia admitted, to a few chuckles from the others. "The only thing I can come up with is possibly helping allay some of their security concerns. The big one is threats from Ptolemaeus, Blue Cosmos would be a mostly internal problem and we know how well their internal infantry forces can handle unarmored foes," Talia continued dryly. Less than two points of Armored Marines had been killed by the defenses of Jachin Due, when compared to ZAFT casualties exceeding two battalions. "I recommend a military outpost offering, call it whatever you want: an armory, a remote base, what have you. Putting us in the line of attack may give the Earth Alliance a bad case of 'second thoughts'."

"Excellent ideas," Eileen noted. "Before we begin today, I want to make one thing clear. I know we can make it on our own, especially with the frightful beating the Earth Alliance took and probably will take again. However, if we borrow the technical acumen and military skills of the Magi, I think we can get farther faster than probably we can ever dream of. It's not the best of solutions; personally, I'd like them to go away just as much as I would like Blue Cosmos to disappear. It just happens to be a hell of a lot better than flying solo in these skies, which is why I want you each to work on implementing the three suggestions. Any questions?"

There were no questions.

-x-x-x-

(23 November CE 71, 1000 hours UTC)  
(Dropship _Sailboat Reborn_, Crew Deck 2 Lounge Area (converted))

Much as everyone wanted to keep the peace treaty moving, it had stalled just exactly at the point everyone expected it to: the force reductions proposed by Lindemann. Half the neutral parties did not really care about the issue, the other half wanted to see 'the big three' nerfed. Naturally, the big three objected in varying tones of vehemence from 'NO' to 'HELL NO' to 'FUCK NO, NOW STEP OFF MY DICK' (in more politic phrasing). Because there was no majority available to move the measure forward or terminate it, Cagalli figured she had her best opportunity now.

"The council recognizes the Emirate of Orb for a proposal," Star Admiral Centara noted.

"I will be succinct," Cagalli began. "We have wasted a full day trying to rehash the Lindemann proposal, with little progress and even less chance of a final acceptable proposal being ratified." Some muttering arose from the Scandinavia area, but nothing was said loud enough to be heard. "As such, the Emirate would like to propose a different form of force reduction, one that is not automatically crippling to any party so signed, but one that will allay fears of militarism. Please open the presented materials and begin."

Wayne was the first to read through the proposal, as it was written in clearly understandable terms unlike the Lindemann plan, and then set the documents down. ZAFT was not far behind, nor the Earth Alliance. Within ten minutes, all the parties at the table had read it and closed their folders.

"No can do," Lindemann said when open forum was declared. "The neutral parties forwarded the request I delivered because the superpowers have too much force and too much willingness to use it. This proposal breaks down the forces for a limited time, but eventually they will grow larger than anything fielded during the first war."

"Oh yes, this is necessarily an occurrence of the proposal fronted by Lady Athha," Star Admiral Centara replied in kind. "The flip side is simple: the forces in question would necessarily be garrison forces, not frontline combatants, since the proposal links the varying size of military forces to the amount of colonies and land territory the parties hold. There are two things to keep in mind about garrison forces: one, they are neither trained nor outfitted for assault action; they are garrison forces for a reason. While the proposal does not make that distinction, anyone at this table with military background knows you cannot use assault forces in a garrison setting with any hope of efficiency or vice versa. Second, if you pull off those garrison forces and retrain them for assault action, what is left in place to defend your holdings?"

It was an artful question, and one that Lindemann had not considered given the shock on his face. "Then Mendel will support this proposal?"

"So far, this is the only proposal that does not leave all the parties completely vulnerable to a crippling first strike," Wayne replied. "I have said it before, and I will say it again: I have no problems with force reductions until those reductions take the forces below the level of effective control for their respective states. The Earth Alliance is the bellweather in such respects; ZAFT and Mendel can skate, but the Earth Alliance has the greatest need for their forces planetside, and I cannot in good conscience see them thrown into chaos."

"I stand with Mendel on this issue," the Prince from Equatorial replied. "The last thing the Equatorial Union wants to see is instability in our northern neighbor. While the proposal does give the illusion of infinite scalability of military forces, the Star Admiral pointed out that those forces cannot really be used for combat action in the assault sense, though I consider it more of a matter of force correlations than troop training. You can't run an assault campaign on such a shoestring as presented in this document."

"Very well, are there any other objections to the core premise?" Wayne asked. Even Lacus was silent, seeing in the proposal the first step on her path to her ideal world. It wasn't as drastic as she intended, but it was a start more prolific than she had ever expected, and in the end it may help hold the peace for years to come. "Very well, we will begin the detail work at this time." Wayne consulted the record of operations order for the day. "Since this is issue number three to go to rotation forum, the start point is...Junk Guild. Professor?" Wayne prompted.

"This proposal does not list non-government entities," she declared. "What is the position of mobile forces in use by corporations? And while we are at it, how do worker machines, such as the Works GINN and Cargomech fall into the equation?"

"That depends on one sole answer," Cagalli said. "Do the machines have integral armaments and systems to conduct battle?"

"Most Junk Guild machines are de-weaponized," the Professor replied immediately. "Star Admiral?"

"Some Industrial machines have very limited energy or ballistic weapons, small lasers or machine guns, to assist in carrying out their jobs or to challenge a low-quality hijacker. In such cases, if a pilot can get 200 meters range out of those armaments, they are doing damn good (3). Strictly speaking, no Industrial machine is a combat threat; disorganized unarmored infantry with antitank grenades and rockets can easily knock out a Cargomech, much less any more advanced military force. Industrial machines are not military capable, and it is not encouraged that such pilots believe themselves usable in military operations." Wayne grimaced about something. "Hell, I wouldn't want to be in an Industrial 'mech or similar when someone shot at me, fuel-cell engines run on pure hydrogen and explode when shot with even fifty-caliber tracers."

"So, I would call that a 'no' for combat purposes," Cagalli agreed. With modern engagements happening at thousands of meters or several kilometers, the chance that a cargomech with a few piddly machine guns being able to do anything useful was practically nil. "In such cases, I see no need to restrict worker machines for any party. As to corporate or private entities having their own military units, I would suggest that such corporations be allowed to have no more than a battalion of Mobile Suits or Mobile Armors and one combat-capable ship at the maximum. That would not put undue restriction on any active mercenary formations, would it?"

"Not likely, most formations have five or six MS tops," Wayne replied. A Battalion translated to about four Binaries, or eight stars as far as Wayne was concerned, which would be nowhere near as much as a single Cluster could field for battle. However, enough Battalions strung together...

Immediately, Cagalli could see the light bulbs clicking on behind just about everyone's eyes. Some would race to make worker machines capable of being reconfigured for battle if needed. Others would divest certain units into mercenary formations and then contract those units back at going rate to 'expand' their military capabilities beyond what the treaty limited them to. It was a hell of a way to run a railroad, but in theory it would be entirely possible to do provided the treaty did not place restrictions on it. Even Wayne looked like he was coming up with a few such ideas...

"If there are no other concerns from the Junk Guild?" Wayne asked.

"Erm, one side question, why would an Industrial 'Mech need machine guns or lasers?" Her question was part curiosity, part operational, and Cagalli could tell the curiosity part was a bit larger.

"Well, short answer, multiple reasons. First, crime doesn't pay if the target you're attacking is well enough armed. Most hijacking attempts are a few renegade toughs with pistols and knives; a pair of 12.7mm machine guns is more than ample statement that the hijackers are in the wrong career field. Second, particularly in the logging industry, a group of small lasers can go a long way toward bringing down a tree; four pilot holes and twenty seconds with a chainsaw as opposed to sixty seconds of chainsaw-only work. Third, sometimes wildlife doesn't like the industrial 'mechs; there are more than a few non-sentient creatures around the galaxy that can tear up a simple Industrial 'Mech if left unchecked. Hell, there are a few things out there that can tear up even assault Omnimechs before the poor pilot knows what hit 'em. And fourth, there are a frightening amount of ecoterrorists out there, whose sole job is to kill off anything they believe harms the ecology of a planet; in such a case, a bank of machine guns may not be enough tool for the job, but it beats a stick in the eye by an order of magnitude."

"What kind of creature could possibly threaten a huge machine?" Lacus asked, incredulous that anything biological could present a threat to a mechanical walker.

"Just as one example among many, there is a planet about 300 standard jumps spinward from here called Seldiz. Great planet, rolling hills, about 60/40 water-to-land, gravity is 1.1 Terran, and almost all of the planet is forest. The whole planet is a basic wet dream for a logging company, you have every kind of tree you could think of for just about any purpose you could put the lumber to. However, that planet is inhabited by a hellish creature called a Seldiz Bull-Rhino. These are big six-legged brutes, about four meters tall at the shoulder, mature ones mass about 9000 kilos. Bull-Rhinos are covered with a hard, chitinous carapace about ten centimeters thick over most of its body and, since they are carbon and boron-based creatures, it is a very hard carapace, just as tough as homogenous steel. I have footage of these things taking a volley of 65mm autocannon in their sides and still they continued to charge right to the 'mechs. Only then do you get to the horns; each Bull-Rhino has four horns that make elephant tusks look thin and frail, again made out of carbon and boron and easily capable of penetrating five centimeters of commercial-grade armor at a full charge. These things have been known to gore smaller industrial 'mechs and then flip them on their side just by shrugging their shoulders. Oh, and did I mention they are incredibly territorial, to the point they will try to drive off a _Guild_-class Dropship if it thinks the ship is encroaching on its territory? Yeah, there is a reason why the standard commercial Loggermech has two banks of four machine guns in the torso, and the Seldiz Bull-Rhino is about mid-way up on that list of reasons."

Cagalli counted at least seven jaws that would have hit the floor had their been enough slack available for them to travel that far. "And, if I remember correctly, you said something about the Star Empires living in environs where that is _expected_?" Eileen Canaver gaped at the Star Admiral.

"Oh yes," Wayne replied diffidently, as if such a thing was not a worry. "Now you see another facet of why I accept that military forces are scalable under this proposal. Some of the places you are about to go are less than friendly to the average human. No civilian small arm known can stop a Seldiz Bull-Rhino, not even a 50-caliber rifle with API ammo. You need at least avant garde combat hardware to do the job, infantry support lasers, support particle cannons or heavy-duty anti-tank missiles. That is, unless your business model or colonization plan can account for possibly hundreds of dead colonists and much torn up vehicles or worker machines."

"Okay, I think I can live with the proposal as presented," Representative Lindemann half-squeaked. If the Equatorial Union was going out into the galaxy with things like _that_ waiting for the colonists, the military was going to join in on the effort, whether they liked the thought or not.

-x-x-x-

(23 November CE 71, 1200 hours Lima (local) time)  
(Central staging base, USSA Brazil territory)

"All right people, this one is the money shot. If we take down the forces attached to this base, combined with the northern base and southern staging areas, we will have eliminated sixty percent of the Earth Alliance garrison south of Panama. Even if they win at the main garrison tomorrow, they still lose overall. All forces, declare ready status and prepare to begin operations," Elizabeth ordered.

"Alpha, ready op."

"Bravo, good to go," in this theater, the Brazilian forces had broke out the BuCUE units ZAFT had 'loaned' to them, since the terrain favored their mobility.

"Charlie, still rather pissed off but otherwise ready," the Chilean commander groused. The Magi unit in his formation, the Dom Tropen had befallen a beam rifle shot to the right leg hover engine. Because of that crippling strike, it was on an MS carrier in the back of the formation, effectively unusable because it lacked proper ground mobility without the hover engines.

"Delta, ready operation," the Uruguay commander chimed enthusiastically. His force had practically doubled overnight, the captured MS from the southern base allowed his significant amount of disaffected USSA-turned-EA-turned-USSA Guerrilla pilots to get back in the saddle.

"Echo team, I am ready," the new commander of Echo Team was the pilot of the Gundam Mark II, the prior commander had been killed during the engagement at the southern staging base.

"All forces, prepare for go-mission in six-zero seconds," Command replied.

"Command, Alpha one, stay that go-mission. We have incoming, one civilian vehicle with a white flag. Enemy knows we are here," Ed groused.

"Alpha One, Command, what is your intent?"

"Move up some infantry, I want to hear what this guy has to say before we blow into the base like a typhoon."

"Roger that, all forces from Command, stand by at this time. Mission is on hold until further notice or until alternate orders are received."

Ed moved his Gundam forward to a perimeter set up by the Infantry, knelt his machine and dismounted. By the time he got to the ground, the approaching pickup truck with large white flag had approached and slowed down. A chem-lite was dropped where the platoon commander wanted the truck to stop, and the driver wisely did as expected.

Commander Harrelson decided to play the part of a Staff Sergeant; he picked up an assault rifle from one of the infantry carriers and joined the two privates headed to the pickup truck. Ed held his distance while the troopers checked the vehicle over thoroughly for car bombs or anything of the sort. As expected, they found nothing. Unexpectedly, the officer in the passenger seat was dwelling on him, probably trying to place the face to a name (or his detested moniker).

"I am Colonel Shane Jelwiz, Earth Alliance SA Garrison," the officer in the passenger seat of the truck declared after Ed approached his window. "I need to speak to your commander before you assault the base."

"I am Commander Edward Harrelson, United States of South America Liberation Forces," Ed replied. "To what do I owe the honor of a visit?"

"I thought you seemed familiar, sir."

"I get that frequently," Ed said. "Care to state your peace?"

"I am here to surrender my base and all forces to you, sir," he said in an even tone.

"Pardon?" Ed gaped. He was expecting defiance, not this...

"Half our base was destroyed two nights ago by debris falling from orbit. My men are in no condition to fight, they know you are coming and I damn near had a mutiny when I even suggested we resist. No need to assault the base, we're done with this bullshit. You can have the base and what's left of our forces."

"Whoa," Ed gaped. "Okay, we will be taking your men prisoner until further notice. Please hangar what is left of your mobile forces and laager your armor forces. We will follow you back to base, but keep in mind that if this is a trap, you will be the first casualty among many."

"No trap, Commander. You'll see why I surrendered when we get there," the Colonel assured him.

Ed backed off from the pickup and returned to his Mobile Suit. "Command, Alpha one reporting enemy forces have surrendered unconditionally. We will be following them in, dispersed and wary, but I don't think this guy is lying. He had to surrender, his base took a chunk of debris from the drop night before last."

"Alpha One, Command, roger your last. Watch your ass, it could still be a trap."

"Command, Echo One reporting, I can feel the misery and suffering in the base north of us," the pilot of the Gundam Mark II noted. "They are not planning a trap, they just want to avoid being shot at right now." The truck had reversed direction, and after a brief pause for some APCs to surge ahead of it, was now mobile and headed back to base.

"There has to be a technical term for your 'l33t skills', amigo," Bravo 19 commented.

"Maybe we should ask a Mendel dude, they may know," Delta 6 replied.

"Whatever it is, we need more," Alpha 33 said. The formation was marching warily toward the base, with infantry security forces out wide in case this turned out to be a trap.

"We're kinda rare," Echo One groused. "And most of us don't talk about it. I know there was a kid, used to live nearby me, whose parents bugged out to Mendel, following the sound of that guy, erm, the one that shouted so loud everyone heard it?"

"That was Century Commander Gerald Lightbringer," Ed commented. Even in his sleep, he sometimes heard the furious shout; 'You will dine in hell tonight, Creuset!' was not a sound he would soon forget. "Angel Zero is his callsign, and the standing belief in the Earth Alliance is that roughly equates to your chances of surviving contact with him: zero." He was silent a few seconds. "Wait a second, that was the same skill you have, right?"

"A subset of it," Echo One replied. "Some of us are capable of talking to each other by mind, telepathy I believe, but most of it is other, oddball skills. And best guess is Angel Zero has most of those oddball traits."

"Ah, that means you are a Newtype," Ed said. "That is the technical term for people with skills like that."

"As opposed to what? Oldtype?" Bravo 9 asked.

"I don't know," Ed said. "Like someone said, we should scratch up some Mendel personnel who know what all that stuff is."

"Command, Infantry Six, we are in the base. No evidence of a trap, there are a lot of EA personnel standing around, saluting us and the Mobile Suits. Looks like this one is ours."

Once inside the base perimeter, he finally understood what had happened. A significant crater centered on where the northeast watchtower would have been provided all the answer needed. Broken facilities, smashed Mobile Suits, a whole company of destroyed armor, and body bags all over the place told enough tale of the price paid. "I really hope Mendel can clean all that space junk up," Ed said to nobody in particular.

"Yeah, it's pretty bad when a war goes to hell for one side or the other based on where a pile of junk lands," Command replied.

-x-x-x-

(23 November CE 71, 1600 hours UTC)  
(Dropship _Sailboat Reborn_, Cargo Deck 1 (converted))

"I think I like Mendel's angle here," Andrew Waltfeld said to the ZAFT representative, a former soldier under his command in the North African desert. "They've created a bilateral triangle trade scenario: they trade us raw materials, we trade manufactured goods with them. We use those materials to build high-quality manufactured goods and send them to the neutral nations. The neutral nations send Mendel and ZAFT foodstuffs. Mendel, in turn, pays for the foodstuffs with a small amount of advanced technologies and mostly raw materials or salvage. Process repeats ad infinitum."

"There's more," the ZAFT soldier says. "You catch wind of what ZAFT is doing across the board?"

"Well, somewhat. I hear ZAFT's been playing nice, even upstairs in the main conference." Andrew wondered where this was going. He trusted the old hand NCO he was talking to, and the old NCO hadn't even blinked hard about Andrew's 'defection'. The NCO had even thanked him for bringing the commanders to heel – with Magi assistance – before a nuclear holocaust had occurred.

"Well, apparently someone laid a helluva line on the brass sometime between yesterday evening and this morning. The hesitation, the neutral pose, playing both sides for the middle, all that crap is out the airlock and floating away. I heard from Commander Joule that the new party line is 'play nice with Mendel, maybe we'll live long enough to see the lands of a new planet' or something to that effect."

"Whoa," Waltfeld gasped. "Okay, run that by me again, step by step. When did Yzak get a command?"

"The Acting Chairman frocked him up to Commander either last night or this morning; he was a red-coat yesterday, today he has the commander's bars and the quartermaster on the _Voltaire_ was trying to scrounge up a white uniform for him when we left." The look on Andrew's face was comment enough. "Yeah, he was about as much of an arrogant asshole as I've ever seen, at least back in the desert. I think he had a good 'coming to Jesus' moment some time after Orb was invaded but before Boaz was nuked. Word is we lost two ships exploring Mendel, and my present C-O thinks they ran afoul of the _Mjolnr_. I think Creuset and Joule were part of one of the lost ships, _Vesalius_ I believe?"

"Yeah, that was Creuset's ship, all right," Andrew confirmed. "Wiped out at Mendel." Andrew had seen the boresight camera footage, he had been called in for force analysis for the after-action report. Nor had he lost much sleep over the incident. Captain Ades was, if not a comrade, then a professional colleague, but one too enamored of the command structure in ZAFT. "Well, we know that both of them survived and I would like to know how they survived. The Magi aren't exactly famous for people surviving their wrath."

The NCO shrugged famously. "Anyway, Yzak was the only ZAFT pilot to get a kill on one of their Mobile Armors during Second of Jachin Due, burned his way through something critical using his beam saber while hanging onto the machine for dear life. His whole unit got mulched by another Mobile Armor, one that had somewhere near three dozen remote weapons. Nasty stuff, half of his team's pilots were killed during that engagement."

"That would be an Elmeth Mobile Armor," Andrew said. "When we were doing joint ops exercises with the Magi before the Second of Jachin, the one unit that almost always slaughtered us was their Elmeth Mobile Armors. The only force consistently better than those gods of destruction just happened to be the Angel Team."

The NCO winced. "Yeah, I heard about them guys. Creuset got one of them, Angel One, but he bought it hard against Angel Zero, and I'm not counting that as one for our side. I think Creuset had done a half-gainer off the deep end at the time, at least going by what we picked up from his radio transmissions. There ain't many of us vets that think he was acting on behalf of ZAFT at that time. Anyways, where were we, in the official discussion at least?"

"Yzak was promoted, so I guess that leaves the new party line and what ZAFT is doing to exercise it," Andrew commented.

"Gotcha," the NCO groused. "Anyways, the new orders are to play real nice with Mendel. The 'why' is dead simple: This conflict will end, eventually, and smart money is on our immigrant brothers and sisters on the far side of the moon. The command level is seeing a lot of harum-scarum between then and now, but Mendel's planning on playing favorites to achieve their ends, and their favorites happen to be Orb and ZAFT. Follow?"

"Oh yeah," Andrew said, immediately getting a lead knot in his guts. If Mendel really was planning on playing favorites, that fact alone could unbalance the Earth Alliance to the point of starting a second war. "I don't think I like the way this is going."

"Huh? What for?"

"Think about it," Andrew replied. "If Mendel does play favorites like you're saying, and ZAFT reciprocates the gesture, then the Earth Alliance is left flapping in the wind."

"Oh, yeah, and oh shit," the NCO griped. "Leave the Cosmic Asshole of the Cosmic Era flapping in the wind and he will step on his crank in trying to reassert his power. Instant Bloody Valentine War, round two."

"And I can guarantee you the upper level has not seen that one coming yet," Andrew replied. "Now what?"

The NCO smiled savagely. "No way around this fall," he said. "If we don't try something outside the box, such as help Mendel help us, all we're going to do is live this same scenario in perpetuity. Hell, if we don't do something wild and crazy and real soon, my _grand_children are going to be fighting these Blue Cosmos asshats." That he was not yet married, and Andrew only gave him forty percent odds of ever getting married, was entirely beside the point. "So, when you stumble and are about to fall, and you see you're about to land on broken glass, you got two options: throw your arms out and wait for the pain, or try to run faster and hope it works. Take your pick."

"That's a new one for you," Andrew said, referring to his use of the word 'asshats'.

"I don't know about the Magi you've dealt with, but this Galaxy Commander Rico that I've been working with has an incredible grasp of invective. He doesn't use it at the table or on the record, but he can swear and cuss to the point he makes our navy pukes look like school-age punks." Which fact Andrew judged to be very salty of language given the ZAFT navy was just like any other navy in Existence: loaded with sailors well trained in foul invective.

"I've met him," Andrew said dryly. Rico had been moderately well behaved when around personnel from the Three Ships Alliance, but Andrew could only guess that was a facade.

"Anyways, you gotta break the loop sometime, and present thinking on the subject is simple. These Magi gentlemen have a pretty big stick to wave, so we get them to wave it at anyone but us for the time being; preference to the bullies in the EA. Meanwhile, we build us some Jumpships, start moving to new planets, possibly jump dimensions. Basically, we spread out to the point that Blue Cosmos can't annihilate us. All the while, the Mendel boys are going to reestablish comms with their homeland, and upper-level thinking is if we play nice, we can get in on some of that sweet action they have running at home. Once that happens, no way in hell BC would ever try anything on us. Anything capital-grade stupid like that would be an instant death warrant, 'for one terrorist group to be executed in the most violent fashion possible'," the last part being spoken in a fair simulacrum of a Magi accent.

"And what happens if they find out?" Andrew asked fairly.

"I dunno," the NCO replied fairly. "It is a sincere effort on our part, even if it is just one part of three in an ongoing plan to avoid annihilation." He sighed mightily. "Yeah, even I have to admit it looks like we're using them as a bludgeon to smear the Earth Alliance, but the same thing can be said about them. From our standpoint, it looks like they're using us as a stalking horse against the EA and cheap labor to build first a dockyard and then a fleet of Jumpships."

"Sounds like a double-ended case of realpolitik," Waltfeld admitted. "Everybody is covering their asses, using each other in ways not listed on the spray can, and trying to sit pretty all the same." This time, it was Waltfeld's turn to smile savagely. "My one great joy in life is that I will probably live to see when this cluster-fuck finally derails. My one great sorrow in life is that I probably won't live to see what happens after that, along with a good percentage of the population of the earth sphere."

"That one's new for you," the NCO said, playing off the same line Andrew just used on him.

"Yeah, ever meet that interesting Galaxy Commander, whatsisname? Rico, I believe?" Andrew replied in kind.

Both pilots shared a laugh. They both knew there would not be much to laugh at in the coming future.

-x-x-x-

(24 November CE 71, 0100 hours UTC)  
(Lagrange Point 4, Mendel SDIZ territory)

"This fast? Impressive," the junior AsTech noted.

"Aye, comrade, we already need a second colony, now we set one up," the senior Junker-turned-Mendel Space Worker replied. "This one, C-412, is in the best shape of the other remnants around the area, so..."

"Yeah, still going to be a mother-humper of a task," one of the military pilots on the task commented. "So, good sir, where do we begin?"

"Erm, what?" the former Junker replied.

"Well, my orders are simple," the military pilot began. "I quote: 'Dale Barker, former Junk Guild operator, is the foreman for this task. Follow his instructions unless combat is incurred.' So sayeth the command structure, so shall it be," the Zephyranthes pilot commented. "We go where you say to go."

The problem was certainly not that simple, despite the clarity and bluntness of the orders. Other than Mendel, none of the surviving mostly intact colonies around L4 had maintained internal integrity. In fact, he thoroughly expected to find a lot of dead bodies in these colonies, much less the difficult tasks of repairing them and recommissioning for use. This would not be a clear-cut task.

"I have a large order package," Dale replied after a moment's contemplation. "As of right now, I am going to begin parceling those tasks out. All units, please uplink to my machine with a list of special equipment you have installed."

Unlike the derivative CGUE Mobile Suit, the GINN or Works GINN were not designed with C3 in mind. The first indication that something was about to go horridly wrong was the instant communications choke in his radio panel. That was answer enough to him; without a word, he killed the external data feeds, leaving only his radio open. At the same time he broke out the keyboard and began reprogramming his communications panel to handle the workload he just subjected his machine to.

"Hey, my connection has been refused, your machine having a problem, comrade?" one of the obviously Magi pilots asked.

"Yeah, give me a second," Dale replied. Rewriting the standard data uplink code was simple; Coordinators may be generally better at data analysis than a comparable Natural, but the military tended to oversimplify everything they did to prevent problems. It only took thirty seconds for Dale to reconfigure the necessary software modules so he could accept and process dozens of contacts at once instead of five. "Okay, people, let's try that again."

This time, the system lagged after five seconds but did not threaten to crash his machine. Once everyone had logged in and verified their equipment, Dale had a good idea of what he was doing now. "Holy hell," he griped; about 100 machines and 900 EVA-suited personnel had been assigned to the detail. While his company had pulled primacy of contract (4) he was not expecting to end up leading anything except his own four-man team. "Well, the first thing we need to do is get a good read on the hull integrity. I want everyone to fan out and sweep the colony, see where we have to fix holes in it."

"Roger that," one of the Works GINN pilots from a different contractor responded.

This gave Dale the necessary time to organize the personnel where they would be best used. He had a lot of military Mobile Suits under his command, ranging from the simple GINN all the way to the Zephyranthes Gundam, and he had an equal part worker Mobile Suits, mostly Works GINN units. The one oddity in the forces under his 'command' were the Astral Sylph units, classified as 'Light Civilian Powered Armor' under his paperwork. Mendel had been building them hand over fist to facilitate the salvage operations just in the L4 area, and Mendel was only about a third done with that task. Dale had thought about acquiring a pair of them for his company, but now he figured he would get a chance to see them in action before he took the 1.2 million C-bill dive for two and the necessary training in using them. The Astral Sylph production factories had a three-month backlog of orders and were still expanding their facilities to meet the ever-increasing demand; he had heard the way to go in Mendel right now was a new 'unit' called Battle Armor, something Mendel was thinking about producing if the treaty placed heavy restrictions on mobile forces.

Ten minutes later, the call came back. "Command, this is Zephyranthes, exterior inspection is complete. It's, well...we Magi call a colony like this 'significantly holy' for a good reason."

"How bad?" Dale asked.

"First off, only about 55 percent of the exterior plate is not compromised. That is the good part, we can fix anything above 40 percent. The great downside, and the reason why we call a colony 'holy', is from just what I could see on an exterior breach, there are a lot of dead people inside. A sodding lot of them."

"Rough estimate?" Dale asked, dreading the answer even so.

"At least ten thousand," the Gundam pilot replied. "Probably more, there are traces of VX-2 chemical warfare agent on the breach I looked in. Probably a lot more." The pilot paused for a few moments, though the link static continued because he was still holding down his radio PTT button. "A lot more," he finally said, softly, then let off his radio switch.

"Isn't war always like this?" Dale asked, almost a whisper in its own right.

"Neg, normally not," the Zephyranthes pilot replied. "I don't know, maybe it is, and maybe the horror we feel is the conditioning of...conditioning of thousands of years of honor, not war." Again with the silence on the comms. "Maybe it is, maybe we paid the price millennia ago, maybe we traded in our willingness to use such savage, omnicidal methods for one shot at doing it right."

"Get the fuck off," a gruff, sharp voice replied immediately after the Gundam pilot cleared the channel. "Get the fuck off your pity party boy, you ain't got the time for it, we ain't got the time for it, humanity in this dimension ain't got the time for it, and your Empire ain't got the time for it. Clear?"

"Neg, what you said is not clear. An explanation is in order, quiaff?" His response had some spine in it, something Dale was not expecting.

"Simple," the same pilot replied. "I read through the Remembrance of the Magi, sixteen thousand years veritably uninterrupted history. You think any government or society here is going to accomplish that? Fuck no and stop smoking the LSD-laced weed while you're at it. The Magi did it right – arguably the New Moon Empire did it better, but I contest that because they were tiny compared to everyone else – and you think you did something wrong? The problem with humanity, or probably any sentient out there, is that they are willing to kill themselves wholesale for minute gains. The group that is willing to get past that 'little' snag is effectively superior to any other in Existence. Or need I go on?"

"Neg, your point is clear enough, though you may want to finish your analysis for the record."

"This shit, a colony full of dead people killed by chemical weapons, you'll keep seeing that time again and time again and time again until people start learning what Emperor Atrebas told the Magi people long ago."

"Ah," the lesson inherent to what the gruff pilot was saying became crystal clear to the Zephyranthes pilot. " 'Of Heaven, Paradise, Elysium, I have found no such fabled realm. Of Hell, Ghenna, Hades, the Abyss, I know these lands well, for they are built by the hands of mortal man, seeking purity or power or redemption unattainable,' so quote the Emperor," the Gundam pilot said.

"And let me be the first to welcome you to just another layer of Hell," the gruff pilot declared. "The way I look at it, we's got one chance to un-fuck this whole smear before ZAFT and the Earth Alliance completely wipe humanity out in the here-and-now. Problems like this will not perpetuate themselves to infinite repeats, they will come to a bloody and messy end sooner or later. Doesn't really matter who shoots first, that's the only way this can end unless the more wizened parties get their shit in gear and fix the problem yet again."

"And that is the rub in one sentence," Dale says, now understanding the lesson that had subconsciously drawn him to Mendel to begin with. "The wise old man cannot confront two strapping young bucks during rutting season, not without a good long arm to even the odds."

The mirthless chuckle of the Zephyranthes pilot was answer enough. "That may be the first time anyone has seriously called the Magi 'wizened'. Usually, we're called 'fucking wise-asses' when we're involved in anything outside our immediate borders. So, where were you during the Second of Jachin Due, pilot?"

"I was part of the _Doolittle_'s hangar crew. Nuclear Weapons technician." The _Doolittle_ was the only _Agamemnon_-class ship to survive the Magi in that battle. "I knew something was wildly wrong with you when you parked the _Mjolnr_ in front of a colony and took a nuke in the side. I found out how wrong when someone uplinked a copy of the Remembrance from a captured aerofighter. You don't have to worry about that one, the entire back half of the fighter had been blown off, beam cannon to the ass. 'Bout the time I got to the opening of the Star Empire Wars, I went AWOL from the Earth Alliance, hopped a mag-lev to Copernicus and hopped a shuttle to Mendel. Ain't looked back since." His sigh was more resigned than depressed, a nuance not lost on the Magi listening. " 'Of Hell, Ghenna, Hades, the Abyss, I know these lands well, for they are built by the hands of mortal man, seeking purity or power or redemption unattainable,' " he quoted the Gundam pilot. "And I know these lands well, I helped try to create one. Not this time, Charlie," he concluded. "Not this time."

"Aff, not this time," the Gundam pilot replied. "More follow in your beliefs, Nuke Tech, and for today we need to prepare them suitable quarters. As the Foreman said, the wizened old man cannot stave the young bucks without a decent weapon, or in this case a decent force of arms."

"Then let's get to work," Dale ordered, beginning the process of handing out work packs to each team or individual unit.

-x-x-x-

(24 November CE 71, 1200 hours UTC)  
(Dropship _Sailboat Reborn_, Cargo Deck 5 (converted))

Lunch usually divided the players in the main conference into three or four working groups to see to the standing issue of the day. Today was no different, but Eileen Canaver had a different plan for her working lunch today. She had some work to do with a rather even-handed counterpart who was fairly close to a yes vote on the treaty.

"May I?" Eileen asked after a moment of silence between the two Magi officers.

"Please," Wayne replied, gesturing to a seat opposite him. "Okay, this looks fairly good, Gerald, run with it."

"Roger that, boss-man, I'll cut the orders within the hour." Gerald took the tablet computer and was gone from the table, happily munching on a carrot in lieu of a proper lunch.

"Progress is swift, now that we have passed the major stumbling block of the conference," Wayne offered as an opening position.

"Won't it hurt your goal of returning home with a full force?"

"Neg," Wayne replied. "My first goal is simply to get word home. Once that is accomplished, my objective is met; the Empire must know what happened. Anything else is really ancillary, but it would be nice if I could take a few Galaxies of trained and blooded warriors home with me, just to add to the party to come."

"Makes sense," Eileen replied. "And, I noticed there is some creative wording in the treaty, they limit the amount of active units on a sliding scale, but there is no real definition of 'inactive' units in the wording."

"Well, Lady Athha said that Orb considers a Mobile Suit or Mobile Armor with its engine block and power block removed to be 'inactive' for purposes of the treaty, and Orb is specifically the final judge on the matter since they are by law the quintessential neutral party in the area." A snort from Eileen was answer enough as to what she thought of 'Orb' and 'Neutral' in the same sentence. "Aff, I know, but in all reality there is no 'neutral' party on this planet. Maybe we should work out a neutral panel to handle adjudication and inspections?"

"I would support such a change," Eileen replied immediately. "Probably should firm up the language as to what is an 'inactive' unit, make sure nobody snakes that part of the treaty."

"Agreed. Regardless, I have no problem with warehousing three or four galaxy sets of Mobile Suits without engines, TelStar, GM and Pitban can pick up the slack when I get home." It also went without saying that an engine block was not the simplest thing to replace on an inactive unit; with inspection rotations of a few days tops, not even the Magi would be able to dodge one inspection then recommission its disabled units for a sneak attack before the next inspection.

"Interesting position, I'll have to remember that," Eileen said. When the treaty was signed and in place she would be out of a job, but the next in line would not be going in blind. "On that note, I have a question for you, off the record."

"Go ahead," Wayne prompts, wondering where this was going.

"You consider the Earth Alliance to be your greatest threat to achieving your primary goal of forewarning the Empire, no?"

"Yes and no," Wayne replied diffidently. "Yes in that they are on the threat board, but in all reality they are simply the official legend – erm, official cover would be more succinct – for a far more dangerous and bloodthirsty party."

"Blue Cosmos," Eileen replied evenly.

"And we have four Action Cells of Blue Cosmos in Mendel right now," Wayne concluded. "Two of them are on general mayhem missions, one is on a specific target operation aimed at aerospace concerns, and the last is a direct hit on the Mendel command structure. All four cells are waiting for activation orders right now, but since they have done nothing illegal yet I cannot act against them."

That level of counterintelligence and surveillance frightened Eileen. She had just ordered initial intelligence operations to be run against Mendel, but if they were that good at ferreting out Blue Cosmos, they would have a field day with ZAFT intelligence personnel. "That's...wow. I wish I had that kind of intelligence penetration on Blue Cosmos."

"You're sitting on an offer actually, and if I don't miss my guess, a rather expensive one. I think cross-decking intel on a common adversary would make a useful down payment for both sides, no?"

"Okay, how did you know that?" Eileen asked.

"A few of your subordinates have made some noise about some kind of co-op military endeavor between ZAFT and Mendel, to possibly include other neutral parties as opportunity sees fit. It also follows in your present operations concept; I must admit I don't have a clue why you chose yesterday to take such a sudden shift in oplan, or what that overall plan is. The only things I know are that it is military, it is loud enough to supposedly get the EA to think twice about screwing with either nation, and it will not be operationally cheap."

"Wow," Eileen gaped, since he had practically danced around the core issue but got almost all the details correct.

"Magi personnel are independent thinkers, disciplined yet razor-sharp and inventive," Wayne noted. "When someone starts making that kind of noise, Magi ears will hear it and will put two 'n' two together. The only thing missing is the style of cooperative venture intended."

"You have no fear that is some kind of double-cross?" she asked, incredulous.

"Three things," Wayne indicated with three fingers. "One, your question just quashed any such concern. If this was some kind of a back-stab, bringing attention to the possibility thereof would have made it infinitely clear. Second, you just mentioned intelligence penetration; while ours is limited on all parties at present, it should easily be sufficient to forewarn of a sucker punch. Third, and most telling of all, ZAFT has no precondition to be at violent odds with the Magi. There is an acronym at play here: MICE. Money, Ideology, Conscience, Ego. Normally used to classify a spy, it applies to statecraft just as readily. Money is out; ZAFT has all it wants in resources and material wealth, and with the conclusion of this treaty, will have even more with the position you are taking in the asteroid mining."

Eileen got the message. "Ideology is also out, since the Coordinator ethos applies to the Magi just as much as it does ZAFT, probably more. No, a hell of a lot more, the Magi get along with just about anyone not actively trying to kill them."

Wayne nodded his answer as affirmative. "Conscience is also out, since we have no depredations that ZAFT would feel the need to correct. We don't go about hosing down protestors with heavy machine guns, just as one example among many."

"And Ego is out, because you didn't stomp ZAFT flat for the fun of it, you did it to prevent a nuclear holocaust." She paused. "I don't think very many of us would actually say it, but I still thank you for stopping Patrick before he pushed forward. He was planning on Ptolemaeus for his second shot, but there is no real telling where round three would have gone." She hesitated again. "Okay, maybe there is a little ego there, but what military force does not have ego?"

Wayne chuckled mirthlessly. "That is usually the first and loudest complaint made about the Magi. Second on the list is we tend to be very noisy neighbors."

"Oh?" Eileen had not heard that one.

"A Cluster charge of heavy Omnimechs with all stereos cranking out Megadeth during a live-fire training exercise can be heard for tens of kilometers in every direction."

"Oh," she replied, and berated herself for not thinking about that. She still remembered the haunting echoes of Sabaton in the hallways of Jachin Due, the straining sounds of _Primo Victoria_ and _Attero Dominatus_ still caused her stomach to knot up. She knew she had nothing to fear from the Marines, yet the translated fear still caused her to wake up in a cold sweat some nights.

"So, effectively, barring your populous suddenly deciding that they want to oust the Magi, I see no cause to consider ZAFT a threat at this time. War may not be a rational act, nor may it be started on rational preconditions, but a government does not start a war for the sheer fun of it. Thus, if we are not enemies, I consider it possible that we may work together on multiple levels, including military operations."

"And that leads me to ZAFT's position. We will be working with the Magi on building a shipyard, and we will probably take out options on at least one, probably as many as three ships in the first rotation. By the same token, I would like to propose a level of cooperation between our sides more centered by each state, rather than simply at L1 with the new shipyard."

"An interesting proposal, to include a level of give-and-take I daresay?" Wayne asked.

"Indeed. I offer a PLANT, to be constructed at the L4 cluster, for use as an armory facility and coordination base for a larger and more thorough cooperation between our sides than would be expected given our history."

"That is a rather loud sound you just made," Wayne replied. "Might I ask your justification?"

"I'll borrow your acronym from before, MICE. Money: we have it, will have a lot of it, and the Earth Alliance covets it. The National Defense Industry Association are old-school robber-barons in a new age, and they will want a good chunk of this take or be damned to the consequences."

"Solid," Wayne replied. "Ideology should be fairly straightforward. ZAFT and the Magi believe in certain things that others condemn, therefore it is in our best interest to defend those ideals, no?"

"Correct, and that brings us to Conscience, which is fairly simple as well. Neither side can stand aside and watch as the other is slaughtered; not only is it morally objectionable, it is strategically unwise."

"And that leaves only the Ego hanging, I can't come up with one," Wayne admitted.

"Well, the ego in me says to push my side harder and farther, but there's no real guarantee it would be the right distance in the right direction. On the other hand, Magi handiwork is rather evident from Jachin Due, so there may be a few _small_ things ZAFT could stand to learn about tactical and naval doctrine..."

"Okay, might I ask if you would consider the use of some of your naval graving docks in the L2 area as an acceptable reciprocation?" Wayne asked in counter. "A few of my personnel have some interesting modular plans, a ship that can be configured for civilian pursuits, a cargo hauler like the _Marseille III_-class, or can be built in one of several warship configurations." The unstated addendum to Wayne's offer was that ZAFT might be able to obtain the necessary modifications packages to make the civilian version into a Warship. "Of course, decent dock area is a requirement for some of the aerospace corporations that have Dropship designs on the drawing board as I speak..."

The implications of the Star Admiral's offer were staggering. The request for the graving docks was not a huge price to pay either way, as less than a quarter of the docks were in use at any given time. Turning a third of them over to Mendel would not have caused even a slight cramp for the ZAFT naval forces. In contrast the price Mendel was willing to pay for them, theoretical exposure to quite a bit of Mendel's naval and interplanetary technology, as well as the possibility of ZAFT personnel contracting in as dockworkers for Mendel, was a significant profit in all real terms for ZAFT. That kind of card, played right, could theoretically catapult ZAFT to the forefront in all major endeavors to come.

"You just made a loud, interesting noise with that request, Star Admiral," Eileen replied with half a smile.

"As you said, we have MICE to consider, so looking out for each other's interests is a fair tradeoff."

Eileen nodded. "I'll have one of my subordinates write it up and present it as a treaty solely between ZAFT and the Magi. You are in a position to sign off on it right now, correct? Or do you have to take such an issue to vote?"

"Neg, purely military issues of this nature can be handled on the military side, but they will be reviewed by both a civilian panel and by my Division Commander, the latter after I reestablish contact with the Empire. Given the inherent balance of the proposal, I don't see much in the way of complication."

"Then I believe we have a deal," Eileen replied.

-x-x-x-

(24 November CE 71, 1200 hours Lima (1700 Hours UTC))  
(Earth Alliance Main Garrison, Manaus (Brazil) USSA Territory)

Major General Wayans, Earth Alliance ground forces (USSA Sector) cursed silently. The hours, days of swearing vehemently and violently were gone, replaced with an abject terror combined with objective depression. Fate was through playing favorites for the EA; the cantankerous wench had decided to show her wiles on this campaign and all things were stacking against the EA.

First, the debris drop of days past had killed many a good warrior, warriors he needed in no uncertain terms to quell these USSA upstarts. As he told Admiral Sutherland in weeks past, if he had to fight this war on his own, it was a loss and he shouldn't even bother. Better to save the Earth Alliance forces here for another day, another battlefield, instead of squandering them down south to no notable gain. As such, when Admiral Sutherland ordered that the Garrison be pulled and evacuated, he was stepped on by the EA Joint Chiefs; the Manaus Garrison was to prosecute the war by any means necessary and achieve its goals _by any means necessary_. That meant nuclear arms, of which he had two with the new N-Jammers, which he would personally destroy long before he ever used them in a civilian area such as Manaus. Blue Cosmos may not flinch from that kind of bloodshed, but Buzz Wayans had almost resigned his commission after Junius Seven. He stayed in place in the hope of preventing another such disaster; now was his chance.

Second, the debris drop had also severed the land-line link to the southern bases. That had been a bit disconcerting, so he sent out a RAVEN flight to put eyes on the bases. The pilot reported back that a third of the central staging base had been cratered out, the third that included the commo link. The southern base had, at that time, been unmolested.

Third, the northern base had been struck by a combined arms force of rebels, and with such power as to completely overwhelm the defenses in less than thirty minutes of run-and-gun action. Wayans was no idiot; such a force had to be more significant than all his intel weenies had predicted, though there had not been a sign of the dreaded Southern Cross Main Battle Tanks that were now opined to be a joint venture between the Guerillas and one of the Magi's traditional enemies. At least that was the word from the Star Admiral and Century Commander from Mendel; Buzz Wayans would not take odds on that story being true.

Fourth, a Commo team sent down to the central base to hopefully reestablish the land-lines had turned up missing somewhere between Manaus and the base. No wreckage had thus far been found.

Fifth, a second recon flight had been sent to check on the southern bases, but had never returned. The central base watch officer had reported by phone that they had been overflown, but no corresponding report of a second overfly had been heard, nor had the plane returned. Again, search teams had not coughed up any wreckage yet.

The real dollops of icing on the cake had come in almost within minutes of each other. The most damning report had come from the central base by way of an APC driven by one very pissed-off corporal. Colonel Jelwiz had tried following his orders to resist the guerillas, but when he began to even suggest it, a mutiny had begun in what was left of his armor forces and quickly spread throughout the enlisted ranks. Major General Wayans did not begrudge Colonel Jelwiz his decision to call off the battle and surrender; the war down here was already in the shitter, no sense killing good men and women for no good cause. The real frightening one came in minutes later, a report from one of the recon Battalions to the east of Manaus. A report of hard contact engagement against tanks, then a failure to report back. The RAVEN fighter tasked to check out that area reported his gear was getting a whiff of the distinct sensor suites used by the Southern Cross MBT units, and his fighter had not even left the ground at the time. The operation was scrubbed – the Southern Cross MBT could easily shoot down a Saberfish fighter – and Buzz called all his operations commanders in for a 'Coming to Jesus' moment.

"All right, you people have the same intel picture as I do. We are about to get slammered from three sides by forces that at least outnumber us and very likely outrank us in all qualitative terms. It is time to ante up or get out of the casino. Take your pick."

"Get out of the casino, sir," the Brigadier immediately under Wayans replied. "That damned debris drop screwed us out of any particular hope of victory, and the southern reinforcements are headed back to the coast for a pickup per their CO's orders. They bugging out, I suggest we do the same."

"Ante up, sir," one of his Colonels replied. "You know what is going to happen to us if BC gets wind we gave up before we even met battle."

"I don't particularly want to be here, but I say ante up. We probably won't win, but we can let them know they've been kissed."

"I vote 1-800-R-U-N," the most senior Colonel replied. "We get our forces home intact, we can use them in better places, or hell, maybe in a couple years we can come back and kick their asses."

"I'm on the edge, but I gotta say fade into the night," the most junior Colonel noted. "We can't win this one in a conventional or unconventional way, and I'm with the old bird here in that we can live to fight another day."

"I have to vote leave the casino, sir," the most senior Brigadier completed the voting. "Morale is toast on the line and our MS pilots are shitting bricks at predetermined intervals. Yes, Blue Cosmos is probably going to scalp us for running; yes, we can probably beat seven shades of shit out of these guerillas, but this war is for all intents and purposes already lost. Dying here ain't going to mean a damn in the long run, and we have to think about the long run here. Mendel's probably our next stop, and for that we need buku forces to do the job; those Magi bastards go through Mobile Suits like shit goes through a goose. Fade out, fade in up in North America, sit pretty while the Senate works out how hard to pat us on the back for not getting a whole division of forces slaughtered pointlessly, and prepare to do unto Mendel as they have done unto us."

"Message received," Wayans replied. "Brigadiers Samson, Chehalis, you two will coordinate evacuation. Colonels Cutprice, Orwell, Garza, ensure that logistics has all of our usable equipment on trucks and headed east with all due haste. Colonel Ampite, have your men rig the base facilities for demolition. I have one task I want to see to, then I will call through to NORAD and tell them we are didee-mao," which was a term so old that only one of the Colonels had a clue what it meant.

After the chorus of 'yessir' finished, Wayans returned to his quarters only a couple hundred yards from the command bunker. The gust front from those nasty storms that had slowed the reinforcements was now approaching the base; his men would effectively be retreating into the teeth of that oncoming gale, but it beat the hell out of the storm coming in from the other three directions. Inside his quarters, he picked up a few things he had heard were useful against Mobile Suits when used by anti-mech infantry: satchel charges, a shotgun loaded with explosive shells, a few hand grenades, and a masonry hammer. The latter he had to request an explanation from the Admiral's bondsman, but the answer was devilishly inventive: the eyes of a Mobile Suit or Gundam could be easily 'pecked out' by the spike end of a masonry hammer used by an infantryman with enough balls to climb that high.

Buzz Wayans loaded his shotgun with a magnum buckshot in the chamber, five explosive shells in the magazine, and topped the magazine off with another buckshot round. He figured he had two people to deal with before the Blue Cosmos / EA Brass mindset was quashed on this base. Manaus would not be a repeat of JOSH-A, that the EA had done that even once was dishonorable enough, let alone twice plus one civilian colony nuked plus chemical and biological attacks on neutral colonies.

Buzz exited his house, and just as expected he saw Colonel Ampite moving towards the secured storage bunker with a certain briefcase and a junior officer in tow. Buzz moved around the mess hall to conceal his movement from the Colonel and then stepped back into the open after the Colonel had entered the bunker in question. The march to the secure locker's entrance only took fifteen seconds, though he stopped at the MP guard before he entered. "Sergeant, I am only going to say this once. After I enter this bunker, nobody goes in, regardless of what happens or what you hear down there. If you hear any explosions, you will seal this bunker and deny entry to everyone, clear?"

"Yes, sir!" the Sergeant replied dutifully.

"As you were," he replied before he started down the stairs into the bunker. Inside, he took the first left, past the small arms lockers, past the demolitions lockers and stopped at second corner. Here, he set down one of the satchel charges, unslung his shotgun, clicked off the safety, and prepared. The nuclear weapons were just around the corner, and he could hear the two officers setting them up.

Basic Training was a long time ago, much less MOUT training (Missions On Urban Terrain), but Buzz still knew how to handle a corner. He put his shotgun on the airspace just beyond the corner and began sidestepping left to cut around the corner, with his shotgun always aimed at the threat axis. Thankfully, Colonel Ampite was not the brightest Blue Cosmos light-bulb in the division; both officers were staring intently at the nuclear warhead and specifically not watching their backs. Wayans could tell they had not even put the unlocking key into the arming controller, so he had a few moments to spare. He advanced down the hallway a few paces, walking as quietly as possible, his shotgun never leaving the back of the junior officer with the assault rifle. When he got to the door of the room they were in, he figured he had enough of an easy shot to both of them.

It was indeed a stupidly easy shot. Wayans cut down the junior officer by way of shredding his head with the powerful OO buckshot. The Colonel got lucky; his instincts drove him away from the threat axis, though the body shot Buzz took still managed to tear his right arm open and put two of the pellets in his ribs. Ryan Ampite slammed down onto the ground, screeching his pain and fright from having been so grievously assaulted.

"Well well," Buzz half-shouted over the ringing in his ears. "Playing with the big boy's toys, aren't we?"

"Wayans, you bastard! This is treason! You have orders to use those things!"

"An immoral order is an order that will not be followed," Major General Wayans replied. "Now, as for you disobeying my orders and attempting to sabotage a base in the face of an enemy, I have no recourse but to assume you are a spy."

"Bullshit! You know I am Blue Cosmos! Like hell I work for THEM!"

"And as such," Wayans drove over his gibbering protest, "You are subject to summary execution as per the Geneva Convention regulations on treatment of captured spies." Buzz safed the shotgun and slung it, now reasonably assured his quarry was not able to resist. The weapon he drew for the duty was the masonry hammer.

The Colonel let out a frightful screech as Buzz Wayans raised the spiked end of the hammer, which screech continued soundlessly as the spike punched through the top of the Colonel's skull and drove down through his brain. The point of the hammer stopped on the lower end of the mandible. Buzz found himself slightly surprised at the amount of blood that came out of his mouth and the right ear after the strike, though in the end it simply confirmed there was now one less Blue Cosmos asshole in Existence.

"Jesus, sir!" Buzz whipped around to face the speaker, who happened to be the MP guard for the bunker entrance.

"Blue Cosmos fucker was trying to nuke the base," Buzz answered the unstated question.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" the MP swore vehemently. "Thank you, SIR!" he saluted crisply.

"Come on, now that you're here you can help me rig this room for demo," the Major General ordered.

"How so sir? One satchel charge isn't enough for a guaranteed kill, I wouldn't think," the MP replied. He knew that much from his prior assignments, all those many years ago.

"I passed a demo locker on my way in. We'll find everything we need in there." The two soldiers moved back up the hall to the aforementioned locker.

"Wow, this brings back memories," the MP replied.

"You a Sapper?"

"Was, until I got busted down to private and had half my clearances pulled. Told my Captain how much dick he sucked in an average week. Erm, sir," he concluded hastily.

"Well, you're recommissioned as a Sapper for the day," the Colonel stated. "Grab up a spool of that detcord and help me carry this crate of dynamite in there," Wayans had picked up a detonation timer and a block of C6 blasting agent to start this party.

The two officers carted their equipment back to the room with the nukes in it, though Wayans reminded himself that humping a hundred pounds of explosives even such a short distance was for the young guys, not an old war-horse like himself. The crate of dynamite was cracked open and the C6 block wedged down in between the individual sticks. The former Sapper set up a Detcord bundle on one end of the spool, then played out the cord and wrapped it liberally back and forth around the two nukes.

"These things aren't armed, are they?" the Sapper-turned-MP asked in the middle of wrapping them.

"See the display here?" Wayans pointed to the display on the warhead itself. It read FFFFFF. "This is an error code, the process timed out before they put in the first arming code. They won't go, and we're going to make sure of that."

"Gotcha, sir," the MP finished his cat's cradle weave of detcord around the two devices. The bundle was wedged down among the dynamite sticks to complete the quick-and-dirty rigging process. "This is a bit of overkill, but..."

"Better safe than sorry," Wayans agreed. "You ever use these?" the general was referring to the timer detonator.

"Like a cheap prostitute," the former Sapper confirmed. He plugged the three detonation probes into the C6 block and turned the timer on. With a couple presses of a button, he had 90 seconds of delay programmed in, more than ample to clear and secure the bunker. The last part of the process was a pull-pin safety with a tripwire attached to it, all he had to do was play the line out and pull it to start the countdown. "Let's head outside the door before I yank this thing's chain, sir," the MP advised.

Once outside the door, the two stopped. "Miss this?" Wayans asked.

"Hell yeah, sir, nothing beats the rush of blowing shit up, erm, begging the General's pardon for the bad language."

"I've said worse in the past hour, no big."

"You do the honors, sir," the MP handed Wayans the cord, while he moved to the door. "You pull, I close and secure this porthole."

"Got it. Three, two, one, now," and the Major General yanked the pin out so hard he caught it on reflex as it approached his head.

"Done," the MP grunted after he barred the door closed and locked. "Let's get out and secure the bunker doors, it should contain the blast and fallout."

Once outside, the MP closed the bunker doors. "Sir, give me one of them grenades, we can make sure nobody gets in here even by accident."

"Hold off, I have explosive shotgun shells for just that purpose." Buzz unslung his shotgun and jacked the empty buckshot shell out of the chamber.

"Roger that, sir! Willy, duck and cover or you're gonna be talking out of your asshole!" the MP shouted to the other MP at the doors. Both scattered away from the control panel and around the corners of the bunker.

Five explosive shells completely demolished the control panel, rendering access to the bunker interior practically impossible now. After the shooting was done, the two MPs came out from cover.

Inside the bunker, the distinct sound of a blast could be heard, but as expected of an ammo dump the blast was contained. The walls did not even buckle from the blast, it was so well made. "So much for that threat. Private, erm, Willy, I believe?"

"Sir!" the Private replied.

"If you would, please find a folding table, three folding chairs, and a stack of poker chips, and bring them here. The three of us are going to be here for a while."

"Yes, sir!" the MP headed around a corner and was out of sight in a moment.

"Sir?" the Sapper MP asked.

"Well, I have a phone call to make, then while everyone else bugs out, you, me, and Willy will do some poker while we wait for the freedom fighters to drop by."

"Outstanding, sir," the Sapper replied. "I didn't feel like returning to North America anyways. Smelled like a damned sewer up there."

"Ah, you're a local, aren't you?"

"Was USSA military, press-ganged into EA service," the Sapper replied.

"Your demotion?" the General asked.

"EA side, sir. I was up for Captain's bars (5) when I got shitcanned."

"Ah," the general replied. "Willy?"

"Same, but he was Mortars, not Sapper. He was up for first L-T."

"The EA has well and truly fucked themselves, and the only people that don't realize it would be the EA," Major General Wayans commented, thinking about several reasons he had said so.

-x-

(24 November CE 71, 1900 hours Lima (0000 Hours UTC, 25 November))

Ed Harrelson thought he had seen it all, but this was pushing it. The entire Garrison was evacuated. Finding where they went would not be difficult; they only had one escape vector, eastbound. His officers were debating whether or not it was worth their time to chase them down; Ed had turned down the radio band that conversation was on, since he had more pressing tactical concerns to see to.

_Why_ they had left was anyone's guess. There was no damned reason to abandon the garrison, it had everything a defensive position could want except curtain walls. Outright fear of the rebellion was also out of the question, as even with their reinforcements cut off the EA still slightly outnumbered the rebels.

Once the infantry confirmed there were no traps or land mines awaiting him, Ed marched his Gundam into the base and immediately headed for the command bunker. Nearby the old command facility was a new addition, however, and seeing it ran chills up Harrelson's spine. "Is that a bloody nuclear weapons locker?"

"Damn straight it is," Ed replied to the Bravo pilot. "And look, three lost souls playing a game of cards." The three had set up in front of the door, as if it was commonplace to play a game of poker in the middle of a garrison base instead of stand a proper guard.

"Roger that, want I should ice them?" a Charlie pilot asked.

"No, I'll drop in and see what they are waiting for. Give me some cover."

The game stopped after the Sword Calamity stomped up to the bunker, and all three players were on their feet. Ed could recognize the uniform of a Major General where he saw one, and this one showed some use with bloodstains on it. He appeared decked out for battle, as did the other two, but nobody reached for a weapon, which told Ed they were not looking for a fight.

The trip to the ground never seemed longer to Ed in his life. He wanted answers, and this general would have them. The Infantry got there first, but out of respect they did not disarm the officer since he had a white flag planted in the ground near the table.

"You the force commander?" the Major General asked.

"Effectively, yes," Ed replied solemnly. "Edward Harrelson, Argentina Resistance. You?"

"Major General Buzz Wayans, Earth Alliance South America Garrison."

"Whoa," Ed replied. "Why aren't you running home with your troops, sir?"

"Well, it started yesterday, Commander Harrelson," the General said. "I was ordered to flatten the resistance by any means necessary, which in this case meant the two nukes in this bunker. For your records, the entry panel is destroyed to prevent access to the bunker, and this MP and I blew the warheads up with about a hundred pounds of TNT and ten pounds of detcord just to be sure it was done right."

"Damn fine," a Captain of Infantry replied. "No more nukes, no problemo as far as I concerned."

"Hell yeah," Ed replied, suddenly quite relieved. "I take it there's more?"

"Well, I happened in on a Colonel, who was also Blue Cosmos, while he was trying to arm those nukes, so I decided to ventilate him before he could turn the base into a glass parking lot," which admission explained the blood stains on the Generals' uniform. "That's when I demolished the warheads. Then, while sitting here with these fine gentlemen, I found out why they are buck private MPs instead of a Captain of Sappers and a Lieutenant of Mortars respectively. So, that combined with the order to nuke civilians and resistance fighters led me to the realization that the Earth Alliance no longer has the moral authority to command my services. So I ordered my forces to extract and evac, then handed in my commission to NORAD. They got rather pissed off about that, but last I checked NORAD is a continent away. Fuck 'em."

"So, your personnel are evacuating, no orders to engage?" Ed confirmed.

"Their orders are specifically to leave the country by any means necessary. They are not to engage any locals except in self-defense only. I'm not going to have Blue Cosmos get its way with my command; this one is over as far as I am concerned." This disregarded the fact that it was no longer his command, but Ed did not argue the point.

"You good sir have got to be the most morally fortuitous Earth Alliance officer I have ever met," Ed said, then approached. "A pleasure," and he offered a hand for a shake.

"Well, strictly speaking I was doing my job, Commander," the General shook hands anyways. "Country's yours, kid. If it hadn't been for that debris drop earlier this week, I might have pulled it out of the can, but fate plays her favorites. Country's yours."

-x-x-x-

(25 November CE 71, 0600 hours UTC)  
(Dropship _Sailboat Reborn_, Cargo Deck 5 (converted cafeteria area))

This time, the approaching party was not Eileen Canaver, but Murrue Ramius. Wayne noted that while this odd habit was becoming tedious, it did serve as an interesting back-channel conduit to achieve multiple ends. In this case, he had a good one to pass on...

"Looks like good numbers, Gerald. Go ahead and run with it some more, let's see what else we can get for the expected outlay, but don't push too hard. No sense souring the issue when we've already achieved the baseline."

"Aff, sir," Gerald stood and was once again away from the table, tablet computer in hand and a concentrating expression on face.

"Progress becomes an interesting enigma after a while," Wayne prompted. "The more progress occurs, the more progress is expected by one's constituents."

"And I take it the demands just keep going up and up?" Murrue asked in retort, though Mu was still silent.

"Indeed, though most are optional requests in the end, I think we've hit on pretty much every outstanding gripe for the time being," Wayne replied calmly. "Except one, that is."

"Yeah, something big is going down in the USSA," Murrue replied.

"Please, a seat for both," Wayne indicated the chairs across the table from him. "USSA," Wayne half-grumbled. "That's the big one that will probably get me canned when I return home, unless something can be done about it," Wayne half-lied. An inquiry would be raised, but the likelihood that anything could be done against him for a matter well outside his control or influence was close to nil.

"That's strange, you really don't have any options to play down there, why the disciplinary action?" Mu asked.

"With enough time and effort, a disciplinary board can find anything their commander desires," Wayne replied; Murrue could not help but bow to the logic, it was one such board that nearly got her wiped out at Alaska. "And last I checked, there aren't very many in the Admiralty Review singing my praises, such as they are." He shrugged. "Still and all, I do have some interesting intel. You might find this one to your liking," and Wayne passed over a computerized tablet to Murrue.

"This...whoa, how did you do these?" she asked, flipping through the enhanced photos.

"Dropship _Forrestal_ has been in the debris belt for some time, doing salvage appraisal and cataloging for upcoming clean-sweep operations. Since USSA happens to be one of the major hot spots on the planet below, I told the captain to keep an eye on the area. He cross-decked these photos to this ship 0100 this morning, which should be around 2000 local time."

"Ah," Murrue grunted, realizing that the Magi sensor systems were just as good visually as they were electronically. "A whole division on the run?"

"That was Gerald's quick-and-dirty analysis. It's probably a little closer to a brigade than a division, given the organic base assets that are also headed eastbound at high rate. What's more, on photo 33, you'll see that the southern prong of their reinforcements are headed back toward the Atlantic, and ships are coming in to pick them up from the EA Atlantic fleet.

"A full-scale bug-out," Mu concluded.

"Aff, they runnin' home to momma, and they runnin' real hard at that," Wayne confirmed. "This means two things, in all reality: one, the Earth Alliance claims territory which they technically no longer hold, and two, there is now a power vacuum in the USSA."

"We can't fix the power vacuum, but we can probably fix the EA claims," Murrue gauged aloud.

"The power vacuum will sort itself out fast enough," Wayne replied. "Nature abhors a vacuum, and the senior man in the rebellion is Edward Harrelson. Book on him is he's no dummy, and no blood-luster, so he probably already has an oplan for restoring rightful government on a shelf, awaiting the eviction of the EA."

"And all we have to do is get the EA to acquiesce," Mu griped. "Not going to be easy."

"Aff, I guessed as much. If you would entertain an honorable request?" Wayne prompted.

"I'm listening," Murrue replied warily; she had never heard Wayne be so deferential, and it worried her to an extent.

"They probably won't go quietly, at least not initially. Would you be willing to ask around, see what they would like in terms of back-room concessions or treaty language to walk away with minimum fuss?"

Murrue and Mu shared a look, one that lasted about three seconds. "I think we can ask around, but there really isn't a guarantee they would walk away period."

"Aff, but a shot at a peaceful solution helps everyone in the long run – most of all those poor sods in South America."

"I'll talk with Lacus and Andrew, see what we can do," Murrue committed herself to the strangely nonviolent plan from the Magi.

"I shall speak with Cagalli and Canaver on the same lines. Three parties playing nice may get them to listen a little more carefully," Wayne fronted as a forlorn hope. "Good luck," he concluded.

"We will need it," Mu admitted.

_This is getting to be really strange_, Wayne thought._ I'm achieving more in a matter of days than should be rightfully possible. Where is the falling anvil, and to whom is it addressed_? Unconsciously, Wayne looked up to the ceiling, though after a moment he realized a falling object would not be arriving for him while on this ship. When he returned to Mendel, however, was a different story.

-x-x-x-

(26 November CE 71, 0800 hours Lima (1300 Hours UTC))  
(Earth Alliance Main Garrison, Manaus (Brazil), USSA Territory)

The press took no more than three hours to realize something was afoot with the Earth Alliance garrison. No big surprise, three divisions worth of forces and equipment on the move made a helluva racket even out in the jungle; that racket served to alert interested parties that the Earth Alliance was bugging out. Thus cameras were placed to follow their progress, and a few intrepid reporters even dared to stop a few soldiers and officers to get statements. Many said the same thing: the Rebels ran a brilliant campaign, and had the devil's luck with that debris drop that got the reinforcements and the central staging base.

The statements, the visible results, created a sense of unreality to the Rebels. Regardless of who held what positions now, the Earth Alliance still enjoyed the numerical superiority by at least four brigades' worth of forces. Even given the disparity of forces, the EA showed no sign of coming back for round four (or round sixteen, depending on point of view). Maybe General Wayans was right, this one was well and truly done, though Ed would not take bets on that.

The effect on the populous, however, was insurmountable. Spontaneous celebrations had started about 4AM local time on the 25th, and were still going on even as the monitors in the command bunker rotated through channels. Manaus had turned out in full force at the base, with food and drink for the rebels that had now converted the EA main garrison into USSA Liberation Staging Base. His men ate hearty and drank their fill for a full day and then some, but serious work was at hand so the drinking was done for today (and some of his men were still eating hearty). Thankfully, while the press lauded this turn of events, they made sure to repeat frequently that this was not the time for reprisal against the Earth Alliance. The EA, and specifically the Atlantic Federation, had paid a great and terrible price for their actions in the past several months, and no more vengeance was required; God's justice was done.

Even now, Ed could see a gaggle of kids climbing in and on one of the massive Southern Cross MBT units, since a few of the security cameras were tasked to the MBT laager right now. The Major of the Southern Cross force had unloaded a pair of the nigh-terrifying MBT units, one for the kids to climb on, the other for curious adults and adventurous teens to examine up close. It made for a damn good propaganda tool, especially since the second such tank (dubbed 'Devil's Kiss' by its crew) still had battle damage from the last engagement, where a lucky EA gunner had put a pair of Linear Gun rounds into the stout front armor of the machine and achieved nothing more than to earn his own death.

"We paid dearly for this victory," Rico commented, watching the same thing Ed was.

"As did they," both Edward Harrelson and a Mendel Marine Star Captain replied. Both officers looked to each other, then shrugged.

"They had it coming," Rico countered.

"Aff, I cannot but agree. There comes a point at which further combat gains nothing more than further bad blood," the Marine replied, then shook her head. "My apologies, you need no lecture on that subject from Magi."

"You have a point," Rico admitted. "We all paid for someone else's arrogance, most dearly those poor pukes in the Atlantic Federation army."

"It will take them a couple years to do the final tally, but you're looking at over a million casualties to take the USSA and hold it for less than two years," Ed replied. "I don't think they got anything worthwhile out of the operation, either, with the possible exception of unrestricted use of the Panama Mass Driver, at least until ZAFT ripped it up."

"More food for the front-line troops," Rico opined. "We ate hearty while we could still get food shipments out of the country, but once the rebellion kicked in for fair even that paled out."

"Beans and bullets; without them, no war may be prosecuted," the Marine Star Captain opined.

"Your English is almost creepy," an older man notes as he approached the table. "I thought the Star Admiral sounded strange, but yours sounds almost Chinese."

"El Presidente!" Rico half-shouted. Every Rebel in the room was on his or her feet, at attention, and saluted. Even the Star Captain joined them, though it felt weird to her.

"As you were," he replied. "And I thought Magi did not salute."

"Traditionally, neg, sir," the Star Captain replied. "A salute is a very efficient way to find a sniper, albeit rather rough on the involved infantry. Exceptions are made for heads of state from other Nations or Empires." Her comment drew a few laughs from the other infantry personnel in the room; they knew well about snipers and how to deal with them. "As to my dialect, sir, it is Liao in origin. I grew up five miles away from the Sian Center for Martial Disciplines, the heart of what was once the Capellan Confederation."

"They were the descendants of China, then?" the Star Colonel nodded aff. "I thought the Magi didn't invade for land."

"Normally no, but when a Successor State ignores repeated requests to stop invading Magi planets outside the periphery of Capellan territory, well, let's just say that Romano Liao learned that lesson a few months too late." A few raised eyebrows provided enough question. "A six-galaxy Century formation dropped onto Sian at the same time every other Capellan planet was hit with no less than a full Galaxy. One month of hard fighting, that instance of the Capellan Confederation became another adjunct to the Multimage Star Empire." The Star Captain did not admit that said operation had been managed by a Strategic Officer, one not unlike Calamira Weste, and was almost a canned operations plan practiced from time to time by significant portions of the Magi Touman (military). With due cause, the Magi could and would invade hundreds of worlds in a geographically small area all at once, without giving the enemy time to react or call in favors from the other States nearby. By the time the Free Worlds League or Federated Suns had a good idea what dump-truck of whoopass had just arrived, the Magi had full strategic control of the Capellan Confederation.

"Ouch," Rico grunted. "And Capella is a small one, if I remember you talking about it right."

"Hundred sixty words, give or take, for most iterations." the Star Captain replied. "Regardless, that is old hat, a couple thousand years prior to my birth. Today is today, and today is a good day."

"Yes, I can finally recall the Parliament and reactivate the Governors not killed by the Earth Alliance. It is a good day to be in South America," the former-soon to be reinstated-President commented. "Before I can officially do that, though, I have to have some showing of solidarity, which is why I am here."

"Unified command structure," Ed half-moaned. It was a problem looming for the rebellion, and one that caused strain when formations had to operate together. The preemptive strike operation had managed to skirt such worries because general consent had put Ed in operational command of the forces, but that was far from the same thing as an official command structure.

"Lovely," Rico muttered. It was something he wanted to avoid all the same.

"Has to be done," the President replied, himself a former paratrooper. "We have all the State commanders here, right?" he looked around the room.

"_Si_, sir, we're here," the Brazilian commander replied. The other commanders were not overlong in approaching.

"I want your input, people. Whom do we call upon to serve as acting force command, at least until we can reinstate the old officer corps from before the EA invasion?"

"Those few that survived the invasion and the years after ain't worth spit, sir," the Uruguay Commander replied. "They survived by running and hiding, not by doing their jobs. The good ones are all dead, the acceptable ones were shanghaied by the Earth Alliance."

"Concur, sir," the Venezuelan commander added. "I wouldn't use their ribbon bars to wipe my arse."

"Hell, I'd trust Major General Wayans more than I would some of those survivors." the Colombian commented crassly.

"So we don't call them back to service for now?" Nods and affirmatives answered the question. "So, who does that leave?"

There was silence in the command bunker for almost a minute as the various cell commanders looked to each other, then most came to the same conclusion. Within another minute, all eyes were on Ed. It would have been comical, had it not been dead serious.

"Oh boy," Ed half-grumped.

"You were what, a Captain before the EA came south?" the President asked calmly, apparently unmiffed at Ed's trepidation.

"I was," Ed replied. "Supposedly I was up for Major's leaves, but they didn't even add my name to the list before LantFleet came south."

"He was," the Brazilian Commander replied. "I had written up the recommendation for his promotion, I was going to deliver it to the Parliament the day after the Atlantic Federation declared war."

"Well, good news for you, Captain Harrelson. I personally disdain the officers that want to run up the ladder as fast as possible, that tells me they're less concerned with their job than they are concerned about political power. Unsurprisingly, one of the best the USSA has in its ranks is extremely reluctant to even reclaim his former position as Captain. Perversely, that says you're best for the job, because you don't want it."

Whatever twisted logic the President was using, it made a somewhat creepy sense to Ed. "Well sir, if you ask, I shall do. However, I would like the right to do it right, so we can actually hope to repulse the EA if they come back in force."

That was not expected by the President, but it also was not entirely untoward. "I am listening," he replied.

"First off, there are a couple unsung heroes in the rebellion, and best it officially stay that way. Mendel, obviously, contributed personnel and some salvaged equipment, but never once did their personnel fire a shot in anger in our operations. Orb, on the other hand, provided personnel, equipment, supplies, and a few times their advisors were in the thick of it. We can't officially recognize their contributions, but it wouldn't hurt to give their respective nations a private thank-you."

"I have a few of the old Parliament working on just such a thing," the President preempted Ed. "It's time to recognize the dogs that don't bark, and Orb just happens to be the silent and most humble of them. Mendel's a bit noisy, but nothing like the Atlantic Feds or Eurasians. Go on," he ordered.

"Second, training and experience need to go way up," Ed commented. "We won this one out of luck and veterancy. Luck runs out, training is easily replaced and enhanced. Orb's personnel are extremely well-trained and Mendel's are even better, and you've seen what manner of damage they caused to the Earth Alliance."

"Agreed, but don't try implementing Mendel's system here. That would look way too suspicious."

"In deference to the Star Captain," Ed nodded to her; she simply shrugged. "I don't think God could get Mendel's system to work right outside of Mendel, the Magi or the Clans from which they derived it. There is just way too much difference between conventional armies and a Clan-based army."

"Concur, sir," the Star Captain replied. "The mindset under which Magi operate is conditioned from childhood; some can be pulled or indoctrinated into it, but those are the exception to the otherwise operational rule. And without the mindset, the necessities of the Way of the Magi would fold even the most determined. No insult to the USSA certainly, since no less than half the rebels I've worked with could fall in with enough training and conditioning, but half does not an effective force build," she covered her arse beautifully.

"The best Spartans are Spartans?"

"Even the Spartans don't like Magi," the Star Captain admitted. She did not elaborate that there were more reasons than just mindset, it also involved ranged weapons, magic, and a Magi dislike of many of the Greek Gods.

"Ah," the President grunted. "And third?"

"Better equipment," Ed replied. "Those Linear Tanks we bought from the EA in the years prior to the wars, phase 'em out. We proved we can do better with a little assistance from outside parties, the Southern Cross units are terrifying to most MS pilots."

"Are they beam resistant?" the President asked, belying a knowledge of the new trend of war.

"Oh yeah sir, my personal ride took three beam hits in the last battle we were in," the Southern Cross force commander replied earnestly. "Worse, there are some Magi units that take a warship-grade beam cannon to bust, you hit it with a beam rifle several times and it'll just piss off the pilot."

"Well, we did invest in a lot of Linear Tanks," the President hedged.

"Oh we can use the main guns off 'em for the Southern Cross units. We'd have to remove one of the LRM racks to account for the larger Linear Gun as opposed to the Ironon Weapons Gauss we put in 'em now, but it can be easily done." In fact, he did not say that a third of the machines were just that, using salvaged Linear Guns instead of the standard Mendel-supplied Gauss Rifle. Such a mod had one minor advantage, the spare weight was used for a Light Machine Gun and a small magazine of ammunition for it. "Scrap the rest of those Linear Tanks down and use their plating for the frames of the new machines."

"So you want us to rearm using newer weapons, to be manufactured by us, and eliminate the legacy equipment?" Ed nodded. "We'll have to act out in the open with Mendel to pull that off."

"No big loss," Rico replied. "The days of the Earth Alliance bullying everyone into playing by their rules are over."

-x-x-x-

(7 December CE 71, 1000 hours UTC)  
(Dropship _Sailboat Reborn_, Crew Deck 2 Lounge Area (converted))

The treaty document slid around the circular table, all under the watchful eyes of the cameras. This, the last phase of the treaty negotiations, would be recorded and was actually being televised live to the people on planet by way of an ad-hoc communications link to NORAD. The flash of cameras from the still-photography journalists accented the affair, the conclusion of decades of off-and-on hostilities in writing and finally drawn up to a point whereby all the parties could agree to the arrangement of terms.

_Isn't this ironic_, Wayne thought behind a passive face. _We officially conclude this war on the day that the core of one of these nations was thrust into a very nasty war of their own, so many years ago. All of Existence turns on the most perverse of axis possible_.

To whit, Chairman Riseman had received the first of the many documents to be signed, as the four prior to him were signing off successive documents. Every person at the table would have ten to sign, though Wayne had already signed four under-the-table deals that would take effect on the conclusion of this treaty. The pen that now sat on the table in front of him was special, and rather symbolic in that it was solid platinum, supposedly forged by the namesake divinity of the _Mjolnr_, Thor himself. Wayne would not take bets on that fact being true, but there was always the hint it was real; even if the religious leaders on planet were already decrying the 'beliefs' of the Magi, Wayne knew better than to question such things as being possible. Two of his sibkin from his eugenic creche were prominent civilian mages and one was a combat defenses wizard, meaning Wayne had eyes on such talents in the past; such possibilities was already confirmed.

Wayne caught Cagalli looking in his direction and nodded slightly in response. Her diplomatic horsepower, as well as the sheer star factor of Lacus Clyne, had been instrumental in closing the final segments of the treaty in a logical and beneficial fashion. It had required some concessions on Mendel's part, but those were simple trade concessions, nothing of major security implication. ZAFT had paid a pound of flesh more to emancipate the USSA, but with the under-the-table deals between ZAFT, Orb, and the Magi the threat was minimal. If anyone, the only persons sitting really pretty at the table were the Junk Guild, the Three Ships, and Orb. Everyone else took a decent-sized hit or better, but there were ample loopholes in the treaty to prevent any form of major collapse in the interim.

Mendel's big payout for this peace was simple: Inertial Containment Fusion (ICF) reactors for everyone. Preference to the Atlantic and Eurasian federations, of course, but everyone would be supplied with at least a small amount in a year. No distribution of antimatter weapons or military-grade fusion reactor technology. Mendel may not produce a jump-capable Warship or military-grade Jumpship using facilities in this solar system. Worst of all Mendel's military would have to shelve the most mobile forces for the time being, given they had the smallest territory and smallest population to defend. Wayne was already working on the parameters of those operational challenges, and he figured he could get around it easily. The forces need not be active to train regularly, and though it would take time to replace an engine and powerplant in a given Mobile Suit, it was only a few days' delay.

The first document wound its way around to Wayne, where he verified it before taking his pen up. Nothing was out of the ordinary, so he took up his pen to the furious clicking and flashing of more than a dozen cameras. Wayne was decked out in his full Admiralty dress uniform, full ribbons and service awards, though Wayne had not prior to this managed to acquire a medal in combat, and it showed. His Mobile Suit, Gundam, Fighter, Aerofighter, Dropship and Warship Specialist badges sufficed; with enough polishing his badges even looked silver in the light of the Dropship's lounge. With a simple stroke of the pen, Mendel was committed to the treaty's first page. Shortly thereafter, he passed the first document to his right, and received the leather-bound page of the second.

The process continued until Captain Murrue Ramius signed the final page of the treaty, being the last in the circle to do any signing. With that, the treaty was done, except for one tradition. The cameras focused on Wayne, cued to the last part beforehand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, representatives of your organizations and nations, thank you all for coming together to bring closure to a hard-fought war," Wayne began, but was interrupted by the applause of the gathered. "With the signing of this treatise, so ends another chapter in the long history of humanity, yet there is one precedent outstanding today. It is natural and welcomed that we have the coming years of peace to celebrate, but we owe a duty to those who could not be here to see the end they lived and died for. As such, with the prior permission of the gathered representatives, I propose a toast in honor of the casualties, the men and women of all sides of this war, those who are today gone but shall never be forgotten."

With that the collection of representatives stood and pushed in their chairs, each taking up their choice palatable waiting for them for this end. Each person had a different drink, though most were more simplistic than Wayne's Whiskey Sour. This part would be handled by Murrue Ramius, the only other uniformed officer in the room. "We did our duties as we were ordered, never flinching away from what we believed. Many of us paid the ultimate price, but none of us paid that price in vain. We fought so we could see the future; may it never have to be repeated."

"Amen," most chanted; "Salute," some chanted, "Seyla," Wayne added to the chorus. All slugged their drinks at the end.

"Reception and dinner is available on Cargo Deck five at this time," Wayne concluded. "Press pool is invited to join as well. This one is done," he concludes, the latter being part of a phrase used by the infantry.

-x-x-x-

(11 December CE 71, 1000 hours UTC)  
(Commercial Block 4, Mendel Colony)

"Hi, Gil?" Flay asked the guy sitting alone. "Been a while," she continued.

"Tina, long time no see, grab a seat. Still like 7-up?" Daniel replied. They were speaking using code phrases and false names already, as was the necessity of their tradecraft.

"Always," she replied, then popped the top on the can.

7-up was still made in the USSA, and was one of the first things on the first Dropships headed out from Manaus. It did not take the USSA long to get cozy with Mendel, and Blue Cosmos knew two reasons why. First, regardless of what the Star Admiral had told Sutherland, BC knew that the factory producing the Southern Cross MBT had Magi technicians and Magi equipment within. Second, there were Orb and Magi advisors with over half the resistance cells at any given time. The defeat of the EA garrison was about as much 'luck' as the Magi overwhelming the Earth Alliance at Jachin Due was 'luck'. There was even a few theories going around that the debris drops were planned by Magi, but that was only thirty-seventy odds; few BC members believed the pussy Magi had the stones to destroy civilian cities as had happened during the debris drop.

Still, the Magi presented a 'clear and present danger' to the blue and pure world; therefore they had to be destroyed. Thus, Flay Allster's orders to make contact with each cell in Mendel and activate them.

"Did some shopping around town, found some interesting perfumes. Ever hear of this one?" Flay handed over a perfume box from one of her bags.

The cell commander popped the top on the box and peered inside. Much as he expected, there was a bottle of perfume in there, but there was also a small data chip taped to the inside of the box halfway down the inside. He took the obligatory whiff, and was rightly impressed with the perfume.

"Shall I hold on to it for you?" _When do you want me to begin_?

"I'll be over tomorrow to try it out, see how you like it," _Tomorrow, no later than noon_, Flay's code-phrase meant.

"It has such a lovely scent, I look forward to tomorrow evening," _My men are ready and able to operate_.

"I'll bring some Chinese over for dinner," Flay concluded the go-command. _Not like you have much of a chance of surviving, but at least a few of you can kill a lot of these pussy Mendel pukes_, Flay thought but did not say. She was deliberately not on the sharp end because she was not all that effective in the use of violence. Flay Allster made a better operations courier, messenger and oddly enough a fantastic propaganda tool.

"If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment to see to. See you tomorrow," he said after he dropped the perfume box into his own shopping bag. Without further ado, he left the table but did leave a 20 C-bill note to pay for his dinner and apparently hers as well. Moments later, the waitress for the outdoor cafe came by with a menu, and Flay figured she'd get a good meal out of 20 C-bills, given a decent steak only cost 4.25 at this establishment.

Her fourth contact done, Flay relaxed a little. She would remain in town for a few days, ostensibly to sight-see, then she was out on a cargo Dropship headed planetside for a layover in Orb and a civilian aircraft jaunt back to North America.

She had no idea that simply contacting those four persons had brought her to the attention of four different Ghosts. That alone made her a suspect in the ongoing surveillance of Blue Cosmos personnel.

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

This is where things hinge, in another one of those weird points in history that anyone can recognize but few can define. The war is over, the treaty is signed, everyone has made their sacrifices in the name of peace, but not everyone is happy with the outcome. You can see that Blue Cosmos is already picking up the slack, for them the war never ended. In the coming chapters, you will see the two sides of the insurgency coin, as Mendel is now faced with a determined foe that does not appreciate 'outside interference' in the shape they want the world to take. Blue Cosmos, however, will find that Magi are not a breed to simply roll over and die, they will have to work very hard to silence the 'outside interference' they so despise.

The dice and the narrative presented me with an interesting challenge, and an interesting subset of ongoing operations. Orb realized long ago that borrowing the Magi's services was one way to accomplish the major goals of Orb: quiet strength, external pacifism, trade and advancement for its people. ZAFT joins such ranks with this chapter, seeing that the only real way to avoid annihilation at the hands of Blue Cosmos is the rabbit solution: become so prolific that a predator simply cannot kill them all. It should also be noted that ZAFT is hedging on its bet of standing alone in the world, in that they are also working toward a possible end-game scenario that puts Mendel, ZAFT, and possibly Orb in a military position capable of silencing Blue Cosmos. In what fashion that would happen, even I cannot guess, but that is what the dice are saying. Making it reality may require some brain-bending geometry...

Waltfeld's comment is surprisingly correct: if the EA is left flapping in the wind, it could and possibly would start the second war off. On the other hand, his former subordinate's premise is also correct: without some kind of outside solution, this is a conflict that threatens to repeat into perpetuity, provided the salvage worker in Mendel isn't right and they end up nuking each other. The possibilities for who got it right are going to be rough on everyone when the conclusion finally comes to light. Is there a way out? I have a few theories, but this may end up the war that never ends...

USSA turned out to be a bit of a shocker to even me. I was expecting a good throw of it for the last harangue in South America, but the dice came up 'NEG' on that one. Looks like the debris drop did more damage than just physical; mutiny in the central staging base, exodus from the main garrison, even to me it kinda feels like the conflict there was undercut by circumstance. Still and all, a conclusion is a conclusion; it doesn't have to be pretty, so long as it actually ends. Any computer programmer on this planet can attest to that apropos.

Note the involvement of Flay Allster in this chapter, and note it well. I will be explaining her survival of the Battle of Mendel and subsequent actions in the revised Dilemma of Flay Allster, which I shall begin writing in short order. No spoilers there, people, you will have to wait and see.

I think I have the last three chapters of this work sighted in and ready to write. Longer than the original by far, this is the definitive version of the Jokers Wild. I have three more chapters in the pipe, and each one gets progressively messier until the final confrontation of this Set. Of course, after this, there is a whole second harangue, Flight of the Jokers Wild, and depending on how that ends, I have up to six more sets of ever-increasing chaos and mayhem until a conclusion point shared in common with the predecessor of the JW.

ADDENDUM TO CHAPTER 16 AFTERWORD:

I find myself a bit surprised that nobody caught the title of the prior chapter. Games Without Frontiers is the name of an old Peter Gabriel song, who is arguably more famous for the song Sledgehammer. It was written initially in protest of a war, but in reality it has proven to be a stark allegory to all of war and the price people pay for it. I was sure someone would have noticed that, but...

NEXT UP:

The Blue Cosmos cells activated by Flay come alive in a bloody display of Blue Cosmos intentions. In the aftermath, Chairman Riseman reads a bit too far into a special intelligence briefing about the outcome in South America, and lays in motion plans to 'punish' certain 'involved parties' interfering with the Earth Alliance.

* * *

Review Replies: Just five reviews for this past chapter, and only a few of those from the usual suspects. Where was everyone?

**Deathzealot**: You are right about not wanting to be the poor sod to attack the Gigafloat, but has the EA received that memo? I'll leave that up to your imagination.

**Knives91**: Ninja always say to use your environment as a weapon. Magi take that saying quite literally.

**Rickrolled**: Shh, quiet amigo, you don't want to give the Century Commander any ideas, no? Things are bloody enough around here as is.

**Jade (ANON Review)**: I'll be honest, the last time I played any D&D material was D&D first edition. I've looked at getting revised books from time to time, but never took the drop.

As to the setting you opined, that is somewhat similar to how it unfolded in the background of the Magi. The first external planet colonizations were done solely by Mages, as there was no technology capable of doing FTL travel. When the first Jumpships came to be, the rules changed significantly, and humanity slowly began to take dominion among the stars. After a time, they began encountering other groups of beings, both magical and technological, though I will leave those encounters for the actual Multimage Chronicles line. Don't want to ruin the story with spoilers.

**Nightblader1021**: You are correct, Battletech does not have Gundams, but this story is not a straight progression of Battletech. You could say that the background of the Jokers Wild (the Multimage Chronicles) is a mash of a whole helluva lot of stories, and Battletech is one among many. Such are the hazards when you cross dimensions frequently.

**Thank you all for the reviews!** This is fuel for the fire, and the ideas are always welcome. Keep 'em coming, as shall I!

* * *

The Gripe Sheet: No gripes, **Necroblade** has cleaned my prose once again. Much thanks to both my betas for this massive chapter, **Frasermage** and **Necroblade**. I swear, I would be a wreck without a good Beta...

* * *

Footnotes:

(1): A **company** of Mobile Suits is defined the same as in Battletech: typically 12 machines. In Earth Alliance practice, this is divided up into four teams of 3 MS per team.

(2): A **Kazerne** is a foreign-language description for a location where tanks are parked. I believe it is German. If anyone recognizes the term and can confirm or correct, please drop me a review.

(3): REMINDER: I use the range bracket of 1 hex = 100 meters for my stories. This is the equivalent of 2 hexes weapons fire, which is doable for a small laser or machine gun but a difficult shot from an Industrial 'Mech.

(4): **Primacy of Contract** means that while a contract may be divided up between multiple entities, there is always a lead position among those various contractors; the unit that has Primacy is the foreman of the detail, essentially.

(5): Captain's Bars refers to the rank insignia of a Captain in the United States army, two connected bars vertical, though the EA uses a different insignia.

* * *

LOGIC AND REASON: Methods of Mass Destruction

There has been some question as to what the premises and methods exist around the use of weapons of mass destruction among the Magi. Herein is contained but a fraction of this bloody history.

From the Personal Notes on Command, then-General Eric Atrebas, Multimage Empire, dated 1 May AE-202:

'_There is much ballyhoo again, this time among the Senators. Given they believe the only standing threat is China, and that a miniscule one, they honestly believe that we should simply use a nuclear strike to erase said nation off the face of the planet. Strictly speaking, the Minot Missile Base is not in my command section, therefore I cannot order them not to follow such a grossly immoral order. However, it has come to my attention that a base under my command, Sioux City Regional Magi District, is nearby Minot. I have sited one of my old comrades at that facility, Sergeant Major Sheppard, with orders to deploy a rapid-reaction force of Mages and destroy the missiles should a strike be ordered against China without due cause. The days of slaughtering tens of millions of people are over; if I have to start the second revolution to prevent such atrocities, I will readily do so. I have already done one revolution, a second is no big deal. The people want it, and sooner or later I will be obliged to give them a new 'reset'_.'

Though the above document is often considered the record that touched off the Second Magi Revolution, it is also the document that would provide the cornerstone and guiding directive of Magi WMD policy for the following 16,000 years. The launch intended by the Senate never occurred; though the base was eventually dismantled and replaced years later with the Magi Master Genetics Archive, the weapons from Minot remained in inventory for thousands of years.

This being said, the Magi have not now, nor have they ever turned completely away from the strategic and tactical necessities of large-scale combat and destruction. Though institutionally disliked for a vast number of reasons, the Magi have always retained a formidable collection of ways to cause mass carnage when necessary. The first and most prevalent of these began life as missile warheads, though were eventually removed from the missiles and modified to be used as artillery or bombs. Thermonuclear weapons formed the backbone of the Empire's offensive nuclear capability for almost 7000 years, until they were supplanted by contained antimatter weapons. The last of the thermonuclear devices was phased out in the year SL-6602, replaced by equivalent 50-kiloton antimatter warheads.

NUCLEAR ARMS

The Magi do not have a strategic doctrine for use of thermonuclear weapons, per se. Beginning with the passage above, and reinforced by orders written by later-Emperor Eric Atrebas, no form of warfare shall be used to directly or indirectly target noncombatants for wholesale destruction. As such, all nuclear armaments, and later antimatter armaments, fall under Acceptable Tactical Use guidelines for weapons exceeding 1 kilometer destruction radius. A force commander of the highest authorized rank in a Division may order the use of an available nuclear arm to attack military targets only. Thus, a Century Commander of the Techstrikers may choose to use a thermonuclear strike against an entrenched foe instead of conventional attack methods, when he or she feels that the likelihood of extreme Magi casualties is too significant to warrant a conventional attack. Despite the availability, the use of nuclear arms for tactical purposes has been practically nil throughout even the Star Empire Wars; in 3500 years of warfare, only six recorded nuclear strikes were ever used, and since then only one strike in the 12000 years after said war. Of unrecorded or not-acknowledged incidents, many have occurred.

The authority for release of nuclear arms varies by the Division: the Magi have the most liberal regulation, a Star Captain or higher may authorize a strike. TechStrikers, the soldiers who administratively 'own' the bulk of the nuclear arsenal, require a Century Commander or higher to give the order. The Bladesman reserve that right to Legion Commanders and up; prior to the end of the Star Empire Wars, only the Division Commander of the Bladesmen could give such a strike order. Among the Commandos, a Star Colonel or higher is required to authorize the strike, though in some rare cases NEST teams may be comprised of Star Captains with the same authority. Among the Special Operations soldiers, only the DC of Special Operations can release nuclear arms, stemming from a series of black-listed incidents caused by subordinates in years past. Of the five Divisions of the Magi, the bulk of the unreported incidents rest with the Commandos and Special Operations. From an institutional standpoint, these are weapons of last resort and are treated as such.

With the rise of antimatter to prevalence, the nuclear weapons policy shifted somewhat in a theoretical sense. Antimatter weapons are hellishly powerful for their size, even more so than the best of thermonuclear weapons. With the deployment of antimatter, it is theoretically possible for one Mobile Suit operator to erase whole enemy armies off the face of their planet of residence. On the other end of the scale, it is possible to do antimatter weapons with such a small footprint that it may destroy only a single lance of enemy machines and hardly affect the lance 300 meters away. This flexibility has perversely increased their deployment among the Magi, especially in Commando NEST teams who rarely report their use of weapons publicly. This flexibility has also given the old Phalanx-class ships a new though unused method of suppressing massive enemy formations, special railgun slugs for the massive Heavy Naval Rail Guns that are rated from 500 kilotons to 5 gigatons. It has also come into doctrine that these capabilities can be used to prevent asteroid collisions with inhabited planets, and to prevent one of the nastiest forms of mass destruction known to man, the colony drop. As yet untested, few Star Admirals among the fleet would shy away from using a single antimatter shell to disintegrate a descending colony before it rips up a huge swath of a planet.

IMPROVISED WMDs

The necessities of space travel have created an expected hazard in the near-space around planets: space debris of varying sizes. Most of this debris is harmless in its stable orbit, through the spectacular fireworks caused by a debris drop engendered a tactical doctrine among the Commandos. In lieu of using standard nuclear arms to achieve given objectives, which are a dead giveaway of Commando or Special Forces presence, the use of debris drops to cause significant damage with reduced chance of detection and counterattack was born. In following the same procedures for moving debris in orbit, a Commando Gundam or Mobile Suit pilot can use the debris as a sort-of aimed trans-atmospheric kinetic weapon. This can turn something as innocuous as a booster engine into a lethal kinetic bomb, perfect for covert deploy and attack. The prevalence of using this tactic has resulted in all Gundam pilots in the Commandos having to take training on this tactic and to recertify on the methods every few years. It is accepted though discouraged that some small percentage of attacks may stray off course, do to the vagaries of unpowered reentry into an atmosphere. Two stray attacks, no more than 2000 civilian casualties in proximity to major cities, and/or no more than 500 civilian casualties in rural areas is considered acceptable among the Commandos, though this rule is selectively enforced depending on the command structure.

It is no secret that a modern military force possesses a great deal many things that explode when incited with a certain amount of weapons fire. It is also no secret that Magi have no qualms about undercutting enemy logistics when the battle plan favors indirect methods of defeating enemies. As such, a confluence of the above facts has been used from time to time in a method that is commonly called 'propane pipe bomb', despite the fact that propane is normally not used for such endeavors. On identification of a military facility with explosive storage easily accessible to an armor sniper, one of two actions will be taken. In the event of a high-security facility, the armor sniper will outright destroy some or all of the reactive storage, typically by using HE-DP sniper rounds from well over ten kilometers away. In the case of lower-security facilities, an armor sniper may use low-velocity penetrator weapons to breach the containment from a closer range, allowing the contents to spread before an airstrike or artillery shell is used to detonate them. Lastly, in cases where the only unit available to range to the target is artillery, the use of high-explosive shells on the storage systems is often enough to cause extended havoc and damage. The downside is this tactic commonly only works on 'new' foes to the Magi; the other Star Empires have universally wizened up to the Magi's practice of this technique, and either do not co-locate their reactive stores with military bases or they bury them sufficiently that they cannot be easily detonated.

Other methods of improvised mass destruction have been used from time to time, though these are usually one-off incidents and many of them are necessarily classified due to various effects of those attacks.

CHEMICAL AND BIOLOGICAL WEAPONS

Though Chemical weapons have existed since the turn of the 20th century, their use died off almost as quickly as they were introduced due to widespread disdain of this form of warfare, at least in most instances of history. On the homeworld of the Magi, prior to the founding of the Empire the Nazis resurrected this form of warfare around 2010 for their invasion of North America. A simultaneous gas strike across most of the North American continent brought America's ability to fight to its knees, eliminating the one major thorn in the side of the Imperial Japanese and Nazi Germany forces. Mass gas attacks were again used in 2012 to silence the last holdouts of the United States Army in the Catskill Mountains. Gas was again used by Imperial Japan in 2022, 2023 and 2025 during their invasion and subsequent occupation of South America. Only the appearance of the Multimage, Eric Atrebas, prevented a new gas campaign from being unleashed on China in 2041, where the Imperial Army was indefinitely delayed in preparations for the invasion of mainland China because their South American forces were being utterly destroyed by the rebels in South America.

Subsequently, after the destruction of Imperial Japan and Nazi Germany, the use of chemical warfare was outlawed by the new government and all chemical weapons were destroyed. Chemical Warfare has not been used by the Magi at any time in its history under any form of sanction; the use of chemical weapons is considered an ultimate dishonor and is always subject to Trial of Annihilation by no less a reaper than the Emperor himself or one of the Division Commanders. Only two formations have ever been annihilated for such barbaric acts, though several dozen individual soldiers have also faced such an end for using chemical weapons outside of their command structure.

In terms of biological weapons, the Magi have never been subjected to a systematic biological warfare campaign. The worst tactic ever used on the Magi has been the old Mongolian 'fling diseased carcasses' routine, and while it was amusing to the soldiers so bombarded, it was less than effective against said soldiers. Especially when the return fire was Arrow IV missiles loaded with Inferno warheads. Despite the lack of use of biological weapons, the Magi eugenics programs have kept abreast of the latest diseases and their weaponized counterparts, in an ongoing attempt to ensure that the use of biological weapons against the Magi as a whole is ineffective.

As of the beginning of the Second Star League (12 years prior to the start of the Jokers Wild), no form of Anthrax, Smallpox, Plague, Measles, Rubella, Typhoid and Tulermia are known to be active amongst the Magi. Most forms of non-weaponized Ebola, Lassa, or Q Fever are considered extinct among the Empire. Additionally, due to the widespread proliferation of eugenics and the subsequent hardening of the immune systems of successive generations, it is believed that most weaponized biological agents would be widely ineffective on the Magi. This fact has mostly kept the other Star Empires from trying biological campaigns against their erstwhile foe; the other motivation not to try such things is a little more succinct, and is explained below in the Responses section.

SIXTH ORDER: THE STRATEGIC MAGES

A product of the semi-declassified Special Operations Division, the Strategic Mages are the wizard answer to technological weapons of mass destruction, though their purpose goes far deeper than simply mass annihilation. Many Strategic Mages double up as Strategic Psionics, Strategic Commanders, or Strategic Support Officers, any of which provides an official cover to their ultimate purpose.

In an offensive role, a Strategic Mage is first and foremost a living weapon, and the duty entails that when ordered, a Strategic Mage will move to ordered targets and eliminate them. To accomplish this mass-destructive task, the absolute minimum a Strategic Mage may be is equivalent to a Lesser God or Goddess (Ares, Horus, and Uller are the three common benchmarks for this rating). At the point of wizard power listed, commonly called Low Transcendance, a Strategic Mage is capable of destroying a planetoid outright with no more than two spells, or may selectively destroy smaller geographic targets as needed. In terms of deployment, a Strategic Mage is often considered equivalent to an antimatter weapon, though few times have they ever been called upon to do tactical military-only work.

In defensive role, Strategic Mages have the capability to outright stop most low-order WMD attacks or to counteract the results of a successful attack. Conventional nuclear arms can be stopped with strategic-level defensive shell spells, antimatter weapons can be mostly disrupted with the same tactic if the detonation is imminent. Preference of stopping a WMD attack is actually given to relocating the weapon either by way of long-range target-displacement teleport to outside the atmosphere (usually into the heart of the nearby star), or to _**gate**_ the weapon cross-dimensionally into one of several known empty dimensions where it can detonate harmlessly and not affect any meaningful living entity. If an attack occurs and cannot be stopped, the Strategic Mage has a wide array of spells that can be used across a massive area of effect to neutralize the ill effects of those weapons. Chemical, Biological, and radiological weapons can be completely neutralized with proper spellcraft, often times before they can take effect on a targeted populous or area; though physical (kinetic) damage cannot be stopped or restored, the radiological effects of nuclear weapons are easily removed by spell. Lastly, in the case of a rampant plague or epidemic, a Strategic Mage can use his or her spellcraft to eliminate the disease at a distance up to planetary scale.

Other purposes of Strategic Mages exist, but are classified.

RESPONSES

In terms of receiving such attacks, the Magi consider the use of atomic, antimatter, biological, chemical, or radiological agents against civilians to be an unforgivable dishonor and is cause to annihilate both the attacking enemy unit, the sanctioning parent unit, and if necessary the political leadership that authorized such an attack. In a very few limited cases, this has resulted in situations called Limited Ragnarok or Operational Ragnarok. In a Limited Ragnarok scenario, whereby a whole population of civilians, political or religious figures, and military targets have committed widespread mass destruction against Magi, a weapon of mass destruction (including a Strategic Mage) will be called upon to use a geographic mass-destruction attack to remove the targeted populous from Existence. These attacks necessarily include both civilians and military targets, due to the definition of Limited Ragnarok, though at the point of declaration of Limited Ragnarok it is understood that the civilians in question either were responsible for the attack or sanctioned it willingly. If civilian involvement is by coercion or civilians are not involved, Limited Ragnarok can not be invoked and more selective responses will be used against political and/or military targets. Operational Ragnarok is the term applied to use of WMDs to destroy an entire planetoid, though it has never been used in any form by the Magi except in training (on uninhabitable planets) or to destroy rogue celestial bodies (such as a moon loosed from orbit that would have hit an occupied planet).

The use of nuclear, antimatter, or Strategic Mage-equivalent attacks against military targets is considered valid warfare by the Magi. Though often disdained, a few times the Magi have been on the receiving end of such attacks, and have suffered heavy casualties due to smart employment of such tactics. More often than not, a panicked enemy force would attempt to attack advancing Magi forces with a nuclear weapon and incorrectly used it. Such attacks only serve to further enrage the Magi, which mostly serves to speed up the destruction of such forces.

The use of chemical, biological and radiological weapons (including neutron bombs) against Magi military forces falls under the same dictum as using WMDs against civilians: very swift and violent death for the perpetrators. A few have tried, most have failed to garner any notable result except ensure their own rapid annihilation.

This concludes the primer on present Weapons of Mass Destruction policy among the Magi.

* * *

TRO SECTION:

Today, I cover the USSA new armor system, the Southern Cross Main Battle Tank. Though not directly seen in battle, this unit provides four times the combat capabilities over the Linear Tank with less than three times the material outlay or manufacturing cost. A stalwart among armor forces, it became an overnight nightmare for the Earth Alliance in its ability to accurately track and silence even Mobile Suits at significant range.

BattleTech Vehicle Technical Readout

VALIDATED

**Type/Model**: Southern Cross

**Tech**: Mixed Tech / 3060

**Config**: Tracked Vehicle

**Rules**: Level 3, Standard design

**Mass**: 75 tons

**Power Plant**: Venezuelan 225 I.C.E.

**Cruise Speed**: 32.4 km/h

**Maximum Speed**: 54.0 km/h

**Armor Type**: Durallex Heavy Special Standard

**Armament**:  
1 Ironon Weapons Gauss Rifle (Clan)  
2 PWC LRM 10s (Clan)  
3 Ironon Weapons SRM 4s (Clan)

**Manufacturer / Operator**: United States of South America

**Location**: Venezuelan Armor Foundry

**Communications System**: UCV-72 TalkBox

**Targeting & Tracking System**: Hessian Systems DeadEye R4

* * *

==Overview:==

The invasion of the USSA began a nasty rebellion that the Earth Alliance was only partially outfitted for. In so doing, they created a need for common ground units capable of facing off against the Earth Alliance garrison forces. Initially content to use the Earth Alliance Linear Tank design, the abrupt and destructive appearance of the Magi changed the calculus of the rebellion and their understanding of armor. With clear proof that units existed capable of withstanding rail gun, coil gun and beam rifle attacks, the USSA resistance forces latched onto the concept of effective defensive armor with heart.

When the Magi came to the rebellion to assist their bid for freedom, they found willing souls waiting for the opportunity to put the new concepts into practice. Engineering a 'quick and dirty' main battle tank to take advantage of the Magi's defensive capabilities was simple and fast, with the retooling of the factories in the area already waiting for the new designs. In less than a full month, the production lines were running three shifts to begin production of components that could be built locally, with other components imported by smuggling runs from outside the country. The first engagement sold the rebellion on the efficacy of the design, with nine Strike Daggers downed at the loss of only one Southern Cross MBT.

==Capabilities:==

Following in the mold of many successful Main Battle Tanks throughout the ages, the Southern Cross provides a solid defensive and offensive platform that is not terribly inspired of form but brutally simplistic and effective. This does not provide for any major surprises to a wary foe, but the ruggedness and ease of use of the machine makes overcoming it very difficult, especially in quantity.

The first design specification made of the Southern Cross immediately set the tank far apart from the Linear Tank it was designed to challenge. Where the Linear Tanks run in at fifty tons fully loaded, the Southern Cross is half heavier at 75 tons. This compromise reduced the mobility of the Southern Cross below that of the Linear Tank by a full ten kilometers per hour, but allowed the former to mount more weapons and armor than the competing machine. The 1600-horsepower diesel-hybrid engine used in the Southern Cross can run off ethanol, most forms of food oils, or conventional petrochemical products as available, and the engine is manufactured in the same factory block as the frame of the machine to prevent a snag in equipment availability.

An arsenal of both ballistic and missile weapons gives the Southern Cross exceptional firepower. The main gun of a Main Battle Tank is its key method of offense, and the Southern Cross challenges its primary competition on a level field with an Ironon Weapons patterned Gauss Rifle. Almost equally matched to the Linear Tank, the Ironon Weapons GR is time-tested and robust, easily capable of penetrating Linear Tank armor at 2.5 kilometers or punching through the terminally under-protected Strike Daggers. Three tons of ammunition gives the MBT 24 rounds of slugs to use on the enemy. At almost the same range, the primary production version of the Southern Cross can deploy a pair of PWC LRM 10-missile launchers, deadly-accurate missile systems that launch not one but ten missiles per salvo, and each launcher has 12 reloads. In close the crew can deploy three Ironon Weapons SRM-4 racks, two in the hull facing forward and one on the turret, each missile with extensive destructive capabilities but with a maximum effective range of 900 meters the options for use are limited, as is the ammunition bin for the launchers at only one ton of SRMs. The only downside to the arsenal is none of the weapons are locally manufactured, all have to be imported from outside sources as they are too complex and advanced to be locally manufactured.

The defensive capabilities of the Southern Cross are second to none on Terra. Where the Linear Tank mounts a paltry 4.9 tons of homogenous aluminum armor, barely enough to resist hand-carried heavy rifles or crew-served machine guns, the Southern Cross mounts 15.9 tons of Durallex Heavy Special Standard armor, the same armor as used on the AWS-9M Awesome assault 'mech and almost in the same quantity as used on said machine. Easily the most frightening trait of the machine, the massive outlay of armor gives the tank extreme resistance to beam, ballistic and missile weapons in greater quantity than the Earth Alliance can bring to bear on it. Almost a third of that armor protection rests on the front glacis and track guards of the tank, with significant quantities on the turret and sides to prevent easy flanking attacks from being effective. The frontal armor is capable of withstanding up to four direct Linear Cannon strikes or three direct beam rifle shots, with the turrets and sides being able to withstand three linear gun or two beam rifle hits each.

Thus far, only two Southern Cross MBT have fallen to enemy fire, given their armor is so heavy that enemy forces have to hammer on them instead of one shot one kill — a feat nigh impossible due to the alarming accuracy of the Magi-supplied Hessian Systems Deadeye TTS. Where the Linear Tank uses a simple radar-directed fire control computer that is rendered ineffective by N-Jammers, the Deadeye TTS is primarily reliant on thermal imaging and silhouette relief enhanced visual tracking, allowing the gunner to acquire and lock targets at up to 5 kilometers beyond the maximum range of the gauss rifle. The Deadeye is a curious battlefield system, in that it constantly scans around the machine with its thermal sights until it picks up a hot-spot that fits the general parameters of a threat machine. Once acquired, the Gunner and TC are cued to the possible threat, who can then use the thermal or EVTS to identify the target. It is theoretically possible to spoof the visual systems with decoys, but the thermal systems can tell if they are looking at a thermal bloom decoy (a balloon with a heat source inside it) or the real deal.

The crew compartment is simple and rugged, though not without creature comforts. An integral head inside the tank in front of the gunner's station allows all the crew members except the driver easy restroom breaks; the driver is isolated from the rest of the crew, though he/she has a 'relief tube' more akin to what is used in fighters than what would be seen on a ground unit. A pair of small heating elements inside the tank allow the 5-man crews to cook small meals completely inside the machine, though for larger forces the back of the engine housing can be used as a makeshift grill with an appropriate heat spreader plate (usually carried by the support personnel). As a sop to their otherwise jungle environs, the Southern Cross also carried a small-quantity water filtration system, used to purify river and swamp water through a three-stage carbon filtration system. Replacement cartridges for the filters are easily changed out, though are too large to fit down the main crew hatch and have to be loaded in or pulled out the same way as the gauss rifle ammo. Coincidentally, the expended filter cartridges have been seen to be reengineered and put to use as a potable beverage still; present common use is for beer, though plans are in the works for vodka and rum distillation.

==Battle History:==

The first battle the Southern Cross was involved in occurred less than a full month after the Second of Jachin Due, and by all rights should have been a complete wipeout victory for the EA. The only armor available to the resistance forces as their camp was attacked turned out to be the first four Southern Cross MBT out of the factory. Hardly trained and outnumbered by the Earth Alliance MS 3 to 1, the rebels still managed to cause an insane amount of damage to the enemies. The attack started with a classic EA armored thrust into the base, which went as planned when it overran the sentry post and neutralized the base's one heavy gun. The EA intel personnel failed to realize the tanks in base were not Linear Tanks, but something new and wildly different, so when the armored laager was taken under fire the return fire of short-range missiles destroyed two shields and three Mobile Suits outright. The Strike Daggers reacted badly on losing a quarter of their company immediately; in an attempt to flank right, they charged into the waiting sights of missile-armed infantry as they exposed themselves to clear direct fire from the tanks. As the Earth Alliance mobile suits maneuvered, they took more fire from the tanks and lost another team of MS, though they isolated on one of the tanks and hammered it three times in the hull and once in the torso. Counter-intuitively, the tanks charged forward instead of drawing the MS into the clear, though the charge panicked the enemies immediately. More fire on the tanks stopped them at 600 meters and destroyed one, but further fire from the tanks silenced two more MS and severely damaged all but one of the remainder. At this point the MS retreated but the infantry pushed forward, unaware that the armored thrust had been broken. The Earth Alliance lost three companies of Infantry and almost a complete company of MS in less than five minutes fighting.

==Variants:==

A production variant using captured Linear Guns from the Earth Alliance tanks can be turned out slightly faster, cheaper and with a minimum of modification from the original design. The unit loses one of the LRM-10 racks and one ton of LRM ammo to compensate for the significantly larger Linear Gun, but gains a light machine gun and a small bunker of ammo to feed it

==Deployment==

Two battalions of the Southern Cross exist as of December CE 71, with production plans in the pipe for another two battalions every three months until the entire ground armor compliment of the USSA forces is re-equipped with the vastly superior Southern Cross. Due to the ease of manufacture and speed of deploy, this unit will completely phase out all existing ground armor forces except APC units, which will be replaced with equivalent units capable of matching the Southern Cross in defensive staying power.

**Type/Model**: Southern Cross

**Mass**: 75 tons

**Construction Options**: Fractional Accounting

**Equipment**:

**Items, Mass**

**Int. Struct**.: 40 pts Standard  
0, 7.50

**Engine**: 225 I.C.E.  
0, 20.00

**Cruise MP**: 3

**Flank MP**: 5

**Heat Sinks**: 0 Single  
0, 0.00

**Cockpit & Controls**:  
0, 3.75

**Crew**: 5 Members  
0, 0.00

**Turret Equipment**:  
0, 1.80

**Armor Factor**: 255 pts Standard (IS)  
0, 15.94

**Internal Structure / Armor Value**

**Front**: 8 / 70**  
Left / Right Sides**: 8 / 50/50  
**Rear**: 8 / 35  
**Turret**: 8 / 50

**Weapons and Equipment**  
**Location, Heat, Ammo, Items, Mass**

1 Gauss Rifle (C)  
Turret, 0, 24, 2, 15.00

2 LRM 10s (C) + 2T Ammo  
Turret, 0, 24, 3, 7.00

1 SRM 4 (C) + 1T Ammo  
Turret, 0, 25, 2, 2.00

2 SRM 4s (C)  
Front, 0, 0, 2, 2.00

1 C.A.S.E. Equipment  
Body, 0, 0, 0, 0.00

**Items & Tons Left**: 11, 0.01

**Calculated Factors**:

**Total Cost**: 2,518,512 C-Bills

**Battle Value**: 1,052

**Cost per BV**: 2,394.02

**Weapon Value**: 1,530 Standard / 1,530 Anti-ECM (Ratio = 1.45 / 1.45)

**Damage Factors**: SRDmg = 37; MRDmg = 22; LRDmg = 12

**BattleForce2**:

MP: 3T, Armor/Structure: 0 / 10

Damage PB/M/L: 4/4/3, Overheat: 0

Class: GH; Point Value: 11


	18. Wet Work

(Chapter 18: Wet Work)

(10 December C.E. 71, 2150 Hours)  
(Copernicus City)

Seijiro Tanaka, Chief of the Copernicus Police Department, considered that the past week was enough of an excuse to take up drinking. He would not dishonor himself by such a blatant excess and its expected degradation of his job performance, but chain-smoking just wasn't cutting enough of the stress nowadays and his wife wasn't helping matters.

Regardless of how the media painted the affairs in the city, he had become the proprietor and referee of a warzone.

Blue Cosmos had long held a presence in town, and Tanaka even knew the BC operations commander personally. BC had made sure to inform the Copernicus PD that they would be operating in town, and if the CPD didn't like it they could be replaced. A string of murders, firebombings, and mysterious deaths were in a special drawer that was officially listed 'unsolved', but he knew exactly who was behind it, BC had made sure it was at least obvious it was their doing.

The arrival of the Magi, and how they mulched everyone in their path, had calmed the Blue Cosmos operations for a fortnight. After that, the attempted flight of people routing through Copernicus to the new Magi-held colony Mendel had reactivated the cells and added to the body count. A lot slipped through, no two ways about it, and the smartest of groups routed through Ame No Mihashira instead of Copernicus; added up, it meant BC was trying to stop an avalanche with a garden hose. That had only infuriated the cells even more, which led to yet more bodies.

Were this an action movie, this would be the part in the story where Tanaka entered the CPD armory, loaded up heavy in a classic 'Lock 'n' Load Montage', and stepped out carrying more weapons than would be legal even in Mendel. Being real life, however, Tanaka knew he had no options to exercise, no way to rid his city of the terrorists and no way to do anything useful on the subject without himself becoming yet another casualty. At the least he thought he had no options until he read a wire report on the news feeds. The Junk Guild had hired a mercenary Nova formation (one star Omnimechs and one star Marines) to protect the Gigafloat Mass Driver; though it was costing them a very pretty penny the Gigafloat was now considered one of the most secure mass drivers on planet. Tanaka considered what the value of hiring two stars of Marines would be worth, just to get them in and clean out the town. Such a formation would cost his department 1.5 million C-bills a year just on mercenary fees, or roughly 8 million earth-dollars a year, but Blue Cosmos was nigh on terrified of Marines. Peace and quiet never had such a cheap price tag, he figured, but his commanders wouldn't sign off on it.

The answer came to him even before the Junius Treaty was signed. Several Mendel corporations, and the Protectorate of Mendel itself, purchased some defunct factories and warehouses around town, putting to use facilities that were either abandoned or firebombed (or both). The tax revenue from those companies would be a boon for his flagging PD; more to the point, the companies themselves had hired out PMCs to do the security work in their areas, since BC swore up and down they would level any building held by Mendel and Copernicus had no laws stopping them from hiring mercenaries. Ipso Facto, he now had four stars of Marines, at least two battalions of mixed unarmored security contractors (even some from the USSA of all places), and at least a star of something he was guessing had to be Mendel's equivalent of special operations. The last were really frightening; Chief Tanaka thought Special Weapons And Tactics personnel (SWAT) were hardcore, but seeing these Mendel guys was enough to cause momentary loss of bladder control for the career cop. They considered everyone an enemy until they had evidence otherwise, and unsurprisingly that included the police force as well. There wasn't much evidence that the CPD was opposing Blue Cosmos, after all.

31 November was a night for the record books. Blue Cosmos had finally gotten up on its hind legs and tried kicking Mendel out of Copernicus. For five hours mercenaries and terrorists traded gunfire, rockets, grenades, insults, and even sword swings in an attempt to attain supremacy. The battle had more or less petered out on a whimper, with neither side having much in the way of supremacy when the smoke cleared. Mercenary casualties were heavy by volume, with 32 percent dead or wounded compared to Blue Cosmos 19 percent, but the balance of the kills were on the BC side with 194 dead and 211 wounded compared to the mercenaries 64 killed and 12 wounded. Blue Cosmos also had managed to kill one of the Armored Marines, a feat they were quick to tout, but a couple hundred dead in exchange for one Armored Marine was a helluva price to pay for a war of attrition, in Tanaka's humble opinion.

The evening of 4 December proved to rewrite the record book just established a few nights prior, and effectively confirmed that Mendel had some badass assets in play in his city. Tanaka did not know how they did it so stealthily, or how many had done it, or what methods were used to do it, but the special operations forces had managed to kill over 450 Blue Cosmos personnel in less than 8 hours, they did it from one end of town to the other, and _never once had they been seen doing it_. That last fact had Tanaka up for two nights shitting bricks sideways; something or someone had just claimed ownership of the night in Copernicus City and there wasn't a damn thing Blue Cosmos or the CPD could do about it. Even more, they had left notes on the doors of _every other Blue Cosmos member_ declaring they were next, which action wasn't so much a call-out as it was a shout-out: get lost or get your life insurance probated. Thankfully by 9 December the bulk of Blue Cosmos was gone from Copernicus, an exodus which spared the coroner and hospitals yet another several hundred bodies. The first two batches of kills had not been completely processed yet, and that detail wasn't expected to be done before the new year rolled in.

Thus, as the night of 11 December dragged on and eventually bled into the morning of 12 December, Tanaka wondered what was in store for the next week. For sure, life with the Magi had definitely made his life exciting. Almost a shame that he couldn't get any use out of the frequent adrenaline rushes...

-x-

(12 December C.E. 71, 0345 Hours UTC)

The sound of the explosion – barely two blocks away from his home – rattled Tanaka awake. The muted flash from the blast was just receding as he sprang up in bed and looked out the window towards it. "Damnit, I knew something else would shake loose from this..."

It also dislodged his wife from sleep. "Honey, is that Blue Cosmos or Mendel?"

"I think that was Blue Cosmos," Tanaka replied.

His radio crackled. "Adam One from Dispatch, come in," the night-shift dispatcher for his precinct requested.

Tanaka bowed to the inevitability. "Adam One, go ahead," he replied on the radio band.

"Adam One, did you see the blast just now?"

"Ten-four dispatch, two blocks north of my house. Roll fire and rescue, but don't hold your breath on the latter. Blast looked big enough to annihilate a house, survivors are long-ball odds."

"Ten-four Adam One. Request you move to site for rescue coordination."

"Is this...going to continue?" his wife asked.

"I don't know," Seijiro replied honestly. "You know how I feel about this matter." Seijiro was a Natural, but his wife was a second-generation Coordinator, and thus far nobody had found out about it. Naturally Seijiro welcomed the slaughter of the terrorists, but he dreaded the paperwork that such combat entailed. Report after report after report, the average police officer's duty was 95 percent paperwork and 5 percent sheer terror.

"When does this end?" she asked.

Seijiro halted himself with his shirt only halfway on. "Honest answer? Probably never," he complained before he resumed dressing himself. "I'll be filing paperwork on this crap after I retire," he grumped, very annoyed by such a thought especially at 4AM in the bloody morning and his retirement was over a decade into the future.

A second blast, this one on the other side of town, only managed to rattle the loose window on the east wall of his bedroom. Radio traffic tripled immediately, given that a patrol unit had been nearby the site of the second blast.

"What – is this a campaign of extermination for them?" his wife asked, now shrill with fear.

"I'll be talking with the Mendel mercenary commander later tonight," he semi-dodged the question.

"Be careful, I don't trust them. Or, at least I don't trust them around Naturals," she commented.

Seijiro bent down and gave his wife a quick kiss while adjusting his tie. "Mendel's not an inverse of Blue Cosmos, honey. They don't kill Naturals for the fun of it, they only take out Blue Cosmos only when needed." _I think_, he did not append. "I should be safer in their command center than I would be here. Now, go back to sleep. You still have to go to work tomorrow, just as I do."

"Just...be careful." Seijiro was out the door without another word, quickly out of his house and walking to the site of the blast.

Before he even had time to get to the site of the first blast, a third detonation in another residential area caused him to duck involuntarily, then cringe. The obscenity of the repeated blasts was manifest but no comparison to the visceral slaughter of the week past. After he assured himself it was reasonably safe, the Chief continued the march up to the sight of the first blast and was only seconds behind the first fire truck. They were not the first responders on the scene, however, four of the PMCs from Mendel were already trying to pry through the rubble with crowbars and hooligan tools.

"Mendel! Pull back, let the pros handle this one!" the chief ordered as the first firefighters pulled axes and pikes to do what the PMCs were already doing. The soldiers waited until the firemen arrived in the structure rubble, then pulled out. "What's your involvement here?" Tanaka asked after they cleared the scene to the firefighters.

"Beers, cards, loud music at his place, since we have a long weekend off," the tallest of the four said, gesturing to the shortest of the four PMCs. Only one of them was armed, a typical Mk. 23 pistol in a leg holster but without the silencer. Copernicus had levied an open carry law in response to the BC attacks and so he was technically legal, but silencers were still a big no-no. A few Blue Cosmos troops were technically safe in the Copernicus Court jail block for being caught with silencers, and Mendel figured they were off-limits for the time being, else half the jail-baiter ranks would have been killed a week past. "We heard the blast and came running. Was BC using this place as a bomb factory?"

"Maybe," Tanka replied. Unlike the movies, the area and building remnants had not been set on fire by the blast. High-power explosives tended to blow outward, but usually produced little in the way of incendiary effect. At a level it was a disappointment, having grown up watching all manner of explosions on the silver screen and the following inferno that killed just as readily as the blast; the thirty-plus bombings in Copernicus since Blue Cosmos took 'residence' in town had resulted in only two notable structure fires, not including incendiary bombs designed to start a secondary fire.

Tanaka's comment drew a grimace from the former Mendel Marine. "Not a pleasant thought, living that close to a bloody bomb factory," he grumped.

"You're not involved in this?" Tanaka asked bluntly.

"Other than attempted rescue, no," the Marine replied. "I'm not into all that 'poetic justice' crap, I prefer the direct method. Now, I'll admit my rating in the Magi was as a Sapper Specialist, but whatever this was is not a Sapper job."

"What?" Tanaka asked, knowing that the Earth Alliance term for combat engineers was Sapper. And Sappers usually played with explosives as a job requirement...

"Serious," the short one replied. "There's no 'art' to this blast, it's just one big sodding lot of boom. You can tell it was an amateur job or a random blowout because there's splinters of the house embedded in the house behind you." Tanaka looked, and indeed part of one of the structure members from the flattened house was embedded in the front door of said house. "One of the first things they taught us in the Sappers is you use only enough to get the job done and no more. And if you want to wipe out a structure, you can do it in such a way that part of that structure isn't embedded in the building next door, using a helluva lot less explosives than it took to blow the windows out of my place."

"Satchel charge?" Tanaka asked, belying a modicum of knowledge on the subject.

"This?" the tall one asked in clear shock. "You'd need fifty kilos to do this level of damage, even using Magi high-grade explosives. That's what, ten satchel charges? More?"

"Ten, and even then you might not achieve this level of flattening," the former Sapper confirmed. "This was either a wildly amateur job or an 'industrial accident' if the place was being used as a bomb factory. I don't see what else it could be." A fourth bomb exploded, this one closer in to the downtown area but still clearly recognizable from the distinct change in air pressure in the colony. Safety systems would vent the excess pressure and filter out the blast gasses, but such took time. "Man, this is a lively night. Blue Cosmos must have gotten a load of shitty explosives or overly-twitchy detonators."

"Bets?" one of the otherwise-silent Marines asked.

"Ten on the detonators," the tallest one said.

"Ten to the detonators," the Sapper said, showing a ten c-bill note.

"Ten on the explosives," the shortest Marine-turned-PMC replied.

"No bet," the otherwise quiet one said.

"Chief?" the Sapper asked.

"How much is ten C-bills in earth-dollars?" Tanaka asked, looking at the location of the fourth blast.

"About fifty-one dollars," the Sapper replied.

"What the hell," he groused. "I'll do twenty earth-dollars on the explosives. The Earth Alliance isn't well-known for quality control."

"Split the difference if it is operator error," the neutral Marine said after he collected and pocketed the bets. All were waiting for one of the firefighters to approach with some word, which happened after about fifteen minutes.

"It's a mess, sir," the Firefighter declared in a sour voice. "Six bodies found, all DOA. One was delimbed by the blast, must have been sitting damn near on top of the device when it went off. Lab boys'll have to figure out what went wrong, but my guess is this was a bomb factory that had an 'industrial accident'."

Chief Tanaka looked at the former Sapper, then back to the Fireman, then back to the Sapper. "Were you two switched at birth or something?"

The Sapper looked at the Fireman, then back to the Chief, then shrugged famously. He decided to play for the joke: "Maybe, my dad was a bit of a wild child."

A fifth blast went off in the far reaches of the eastern sector of town, noted only from the muted rumble of the blast and the air pressure changing once again. "This is going to be one hell of a day," Seijiro Tanaka half-whined.

-x-x-x-

(12 December C.E. 71, 0900 Hours)  
(Office of the Chief Representative, Emirate of Orb Administration Building)

"That thing in Copernicus, what was it?" Cagalli asked.

"Officially, five Blue Cosmos bomb factories, probably staffed by incompetent bomb manufacturers. Report is still out on that one, so it's a preliminary finding as of right now," Rondo Mina Sahaku replied. "Unofficially, five very big satchel charges laid in by Mendel's Special Operations personnel," she commented. In one sentence, she very adroitly told of how much intelligence penetration she had in Mendel's operations in Copernicus. One of the operators for the PMCs was an undercover Orb 4th Special Forces Company officer. "It's like that 'Night of Long Knives' incident from a week and some ago, just a continuation of it. Most of Blue Cosmos ran for the hills after half their ranks turned up dead overnight. Slick operation, nobody was seen then or now and there are no official fingerprints; however, there literally is no way it could be anyone but Mendel. Same thing here: they probably picked up some blasting agent from the BC troops they killed, retasked their own explosives into five significant satchel charges, and blew the remaining cells apart. It'll even look like BC blew themselves up on any official inspection, since they used their own explosives against them."

"Except that Blue Cosmos was only running one bomb factory in the five sites that were blown apart," Kisaka commented.

"Blue Cosmos can't exactly come out and say that," Athrun commented. "I have to agree with Rondo, this was slick," Athrun apprised, even though he didn't want to give those kinds of props to Mendel. "And I didn't think the Magi were ones for subtlety."

"Normally, no," Cagalli admitted. "Usually if they're going to do anything to anyone, it is going to be right up in their face. I'd have to say they're operating almost un-Magelike, if I didn't know Centara and Lightbringer better." She shrugged. "So long as Copernicus is still standing at the end of the day, I'm not too worried about it. This proxy war between Mendel and Blue Cosmos will burn itself out eventually."

"Should we work our way in on it?" Colonel Kisaka asked fairly. Technically Orb had no dog in the fight as of yet, but showing up to the fight early tended to give one a good starting position to hound the other players.

"No, not for now," Cagalli replied. "We'll keep everything above-table except for intelligence gathering on the parties. No sides, not yet, but we will have to take position if BC gets frisky in Orb." The unstated extension to her official position was that Mendel would not get frisky in Orb because it did not match their strategic position and intention, unlike Blue Cosmos which had no easily-defined strategic position or intention of late. Despite what their mouthpieces were saying, Blue Cosmos looked like it was becoming something of a dog's breakfast in all real terms. Orb's intelligence services were now estimating that Blue Cosmos was almost a third populated with outright anarchists, less concerned with 'purifying' the human race than they were with causing chaos and destruction. BC needed the manpower because the arrival of the Magi had convinced just shy of 40 percent of Blue Cosmos to find another job because the Magi don't play nice with terrorists. Anarchists were a hard thing to detect, being devilishly clever in hiding their true feelings behind a masque of groupthink, and the ethos of Blue Cosmos gave them plenty of reason to vent all that pent-up angst violently. It would have been a perfect marriage of needs and devils had Blue Cosmos not been vying for some form of power after the bloodletting was done. As it stood, the anarchy within threatened to destabilize Blue Cosmos and eventually destroy it, unless a powerful leader came forward shortly to take the reins of BC from the soon-to-be-executed Azraiel. "What's your estimate on how long before BC burns itself out?" Cagalli asked.

"If they keep inducting psychos and anarchists hand over fist like they are right now," Rondo Mina made a show of considering it, grimace and all. "Call it four years on the short side, seven as a worst-case scenario. If they wise up and realize they have beasts in the belly, they won't burn out as an official nuisance. They'll necessarily take a hit from those purges, but they'll come back just as strong in due time, once the rest of the world realizes that Mendel isn't the residence of Gods."

"Honestly, I wish it wouldn't take that long," Athrun said. "Four years isn't a long time to wait for things to go wrong."

"Huh?" Cagalli asked.

"Oh, wow, that did not come out right," Athrun backtracked quickly. "What I was trying to say is that four years is plenty of time for things to go wrong."

"Or get worse," Rondo continued the thought. "Which brings us to the big issue of the day."

"Yeah," Cagalli replied. "The USSA envoy."

"We did help them out against the Earth Alliance, no doubt they want to repay that debt," Colonel Kisaka replied. Though Kisaka wasn't directly involved in the operations, most of the high-level decisions went through him. The rest was handled by his best troops in the field.

"Okay, what are we looking at?"

"Well, first off, probably some form of multi-party trade, make it at least look like this is a systematic operations plan that's not focused on just one group or bloc. The USSA is a net exporter of foods, to a huge tune; they'll make that their cornerstone offering, and I suggest we take it. For sure Mendel and ZAFT will take it, and they'll probably hire out one of Mendel's monitors to serve as convoy escort." Rondo Mina had meant it as a rather wan joke, but everyone else took it as holy writ.

"How much food does Mendel have left in reserve?" Cagalli asked.

"Off what they brought with them? At least 400 days, they were loaded heavy with supplies for their fleet, just not much in the way of an actual fleet," Kisaka commented.

"Don't tell that one to ZAFT," Athrun replied quietly. Mendel's 'not much of a fleet' had turned ZAFT's 'not much of a navy' into a huge pile of mulched warships, and ZAFT appeared to be politely ignoring that fact right now...

"That would actually help us," Cagalli began before the discussion derailed. "Orb is a net importer of food, so a trade treaty based mostly on food is easily doable."

"Morgenroete is also going to be called on," Rondo continued. "They got a real good taste of high-tech combat capability in their back-room deal with Mendel, even though for all intents and purposes the units they are operating now are rather low-tech for Mendel. I don't think they will hold off very long before they ask Morgenroete to come in and consult with them about the facilities the Earth Alliance was setting up to manufacture Strike Daggers, Duel Daggers, Buster Daggers, and 105 Daggers. Most of the facility's gear is operational right now, but there will be a few places high-level expertise is needed, and right now Mendel is on the EA crap-list so they would have to politely recuse themselves from such contract work."

"Like we aren't?" Cagalli asked.

"Well, less so than our space-bound neighbors, or at least farther down the list," Rondo admitted. "Still, the Earth Alliance is trying to minimize Mendel operations. If we keep it quiet, I think we can sneak this one under the radar."

When Cagalli looked to Athrun, it didn't take much in the way of imagination for anyone to understand what she was thinking. "Serious?" Athrun asked.

"You'll have to coordinate with Erica Simmons, and yes, I don't want you to leave but I need someone there with horsepower." It went without saying that Athrun Zala, Ace pilot of the Three Ships and formerly a ZAFT redcoat, now the unofficial boyfriend to the Chief Representative of Orb, would have a huge amount of horsepower in mobile suit matters.

"Yuna, I take it?" A look from Cagalli was enough answer for Rondo Mina Sahaku. "At least he's not a letch."

"If he was, that would give me an excuse to hurt him. Badly." Cagalli could not sound any more disappointed in such an obstacle.

"I will find a suitable distraction for him," Lady Sahaku replied. "I have been brewing a plan, based somewhat on the old 'Bridge to Nowhere' concept of the old United States, but with a twist. Ame No Mihashira was initially set up to be the top-end station of a Star Ladder project, and just about everyone knows it."

"Ah," Athrun sighed. "Have Yuna and Unago work on completing the Star Ladder project."

"Knowing Yuna, if I say it's important he'll break his own neck trying to complete it and make himself look good," Cagalli said. "Operationally perfect. Gets him out of my hair, possibly gives us an easy way to move material up to space, and helps distract the other nations from other plays we're going to be making. Where do I sign?"

"I'll tell Unago that you wish to speak with them," Rondo replied. "I'll help front the materials for the Ladder, since my family administratively owns the station I will necessarily have to be involved."

"And I'm sure we can get a good going price from Mendel on materials for the construction," Cagalli considered aloud. "So, since we have the standing trade agreement from a few months ago, I suggest we take advantage of it."

"Easily," Rondo replied. "I don't think anything else is going to come up with the USSA right now, except for the usual tasks of reestablishing diplomatic relations and embassies and such."

"I'll need to review the accommodations with the Secretary of State," Cagalli replied. "The Earth Alliance is about to find themselves in a rut, and the likely measure they're going to take is lash out at whomever they see as a good target of opportunity. Now is the time to consolidate with allies and guard against enemies, because it's not going to take more than one good spark to set off an inferno right now."

-x-x-x-

(12 December C.E. 71, 1000 Hours)  
(Debris Belt, sector E-1)

"Mendel Dropship _Forrestal_, this is Junk Guild supply freighter _RE H.O.M.E._, come in," Kisato requested on the general transmissions band the Magi used for projects like this.

"_RE H.O.M.E._, this is _Forrestal_ Control, welcome to the project. Do you have an area you want to start in, or are you open?" If anything, the voice on the far side of the radio link sounded younger than Kisato.

"Erm, hold one," Kisato looked first to Liam, who shrugged, then to the Professor, who also shrugged. "We don't have a starting point yet, _Forrestal_, any suggestions?"

"We have a few areas that could use the help," the Controller replied. "How much can you transport?"

"Eighty thousand tons," Kisato replied immediately, knowing what the standard 'gross weight' of the ship was by heart. She still hadn't forgiven the George Glenn module for being such a screwoff and ruining her mental image of the man, but she loved the rest of the ship.

"Erm, repeat your last, please?" the operator requested.

"Eighty thousand tons transport capacity, _Forrestal_," she replied, then decided to make sure the message got across: "Eight-zero-thousand."

"Copy last, please hold," the operator replied. The wait was only fifteen seconds. "_RE H.O.M.E._, _Forrestal_, please move to sector E-3 for operations, we don't have enough lift capacity up there at this time."

It was Kisato's turn to gape. "Not enough lift? You guys are supposed to be the kings of transport!" If there was one thing Kisato had kept hearing during her last port call, it was how stunning and frightening the capabilities of Dropships were, especially to the Earth Alliance.

"That's what we keep telling ourselves," the operator replied with enough cynicism to make herself sound older than Liam. "These Dropships are great for going between a Jumpship and a planet, but for straight in-system colony to colony hauling nothing beats a good transport monitor. And your ship has these _Guild II_-class ships beat in transport cap by a third."

"Wow," Kisato replied, having learned something new and spectacular to love about the ship. "Okay, where's E-3 sector from here?"

"Towards the north pole of the planet," Liam replied for the Controller. "What asset do we coordinate with in that sector?"

"E-3 is being lorded over by Star Colonel Tellos. Goes by the handle Kingfisher. Call forward on band 7-E-2 to wake him up, probably racked out right now since he's been out there for...fourteen hours?"

"Huh?" Liam asked before the bridge door opened. Lowe Gear drifted into the command deck, yawning and stretching.

"We there yet?" Lowe asked.

"Nope, 'nother six hours," Kisato replied in a rendition of a joke.

"Gah! I could still be sleeping! And I coulda swore I did the math right on when we were supposed to get there..."

"We're talking to _Forrestal_ control right now," Liam spoiled the joke. "Anyways, why didn't he return to a ship if he was that tired?"

"Kingfisher is...a bit of an odd duck, even by our standards," the Controller replied.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence Operator, I'll be sure to send you a Christmas Card here in the next week," a rather sharp and deep voice declared. "_RE H.O.M.E._, Kingfisher, welcome to the party. The more transport we can get, the better. How you loaded?"

"Three mobile worker pods, one worker mobile suit, and one multipurpose MS."

"Outstanding," Kingfisher replied. "Carry cap and more loaders. The junk Guild knows their stuff. C'mon up, we've only about 3 gigatons of junk to move, not even counting the remnant of Junius Seven."

This revelation caused the Professor to lose her glasses down the end of her nose. "Wow, three gigatons? This may take a few days," the George Glenn hologram commented with a clear tone of surprise.

Kingfisher outright laughed at Glenn's comment. "A whelp with spirit! Impressive; we could use more with that kind of attitude out here. And more transport capacity."

Kisato half-glared at the George Glenn Hologram, but said nothing initially. "Can we steal one of Mendel's AI units to replace him?"

"Probably not," Liam replied. "I would think they would be some of the heaviest-guarded equipment Mendel has." Despite the morose turn in the conversation, the ship was moving upward to ordered sector. "Wait a second...no Dropship up here?"

"Neg, we only have two Dropships assigned to this detail, the rest are operating as cargo ferries between Mendel and the PLANTs or Mendel and the planet's surface. Helluva expensive cargo ferries, since they are combat Dropships, but that is what they are assigned to. Rarely do they move anywhere with less than a full load, which probably makes the load masters happy."

"How much does one of those _Guild II_ ships cost?" Lowe asked on a whim, since he had heard conflicting numbers on the subject.

"Eh, I'm not really sure, you'd have to ask someone else," Kingfisher admitted. "I know the stripped-down version is 700 million a piece, that's all I can tell you."

Liam did some fast math on the price and came up with 3 and a half billion earth-dollars per ship. "Well, they can land on a planet and travel interplanetary distances faster than the _Tsiolkovsky_, so there is justification in such a price..."

"Mostly you're paying for the economy of scale," Kingfisher replied. "A Dropship half the size usually costs about a quarter of a _Guild II_, including a respectable arsenal. Won't stop my Gundam, not by a long shot, but..." He paused. "You know, the more I think about it, the more I think a good freight-only Monitor would be a good thing. Mind if I borrow the RE H.O.M.E., mass-produce it?"

"Erm," the Professor stammered. "Guys?"

The crew looked around at each other. "I say only if it is used for noncombat purposes," Lowe replied. The others agreed with him after a moment.

"No sweat, it isn't structured to be a warship anyways, so I wouldn't try," Kingfisher paused for a moment. "Thank you, RE H.O.M.E., hold your present position for scrap loading. All units on 7-E-2 band, new carrier in the loop is _RE H.O.M.E._, coordinate with ship's control for loading process."

"This is going to get crowded fast," The Professor noted, seeing the amount of salvage teams assigned to the task just in this sector. "Lowe, Liam, Kisato, get out there and get to it. George, start coordinating the incoming salvage dropoff. It won't take long to fill the ship to capacity, with or without us helping."

"How are we gettin' paid for this?" Lowe asked.

"Salvage rights; we get twenty percent of each run, and we get to determine what twenty percent. If we find broken MS or such and claim 'em, Mendel's agreed to repair them for us at half cost."

"That's sweet," Lowe replied, knowing that twenty percent of the ship's capacity – a mere 16000 tons – was more than enough to finance running the ship for six months. If he was doing the math right, the ship could make four complete runs from Mendel to the debris belt in a month, provided loading was fast enough.

"Time's ticking on the clock, guys, get to it," the Professor urged them. All three pilot-qualified crew members were out the door and headed to the pilot's robing room in short order. "This is going to be interesting. I wonder what Mendel looks like now that it's been taken over by the

"It'll take years to clean all this junk up," the George Glenn hologram noted.

"Years we have," the Professor replied. "Were it not for the Magi, we might have been wiped out by the Second Battle of Jachin Due."

-x-x-x-

(12 December C.E. 71, 1100 Hours)  
(Mendel Administration Building, floor 10 conference room)

Wayne rapped the surface of the table with the butt of his (unloaded) sidearm, in replacement of a gavel that he didn't feel like paying for. Such 'niceities' usually had to be paid for by the officer using them, and most officers sensibly decided to just use a hammer, wooden mallet, or the butt of their sidearm; all far cheaper and more readily available than a decorative mallet named a gavel. "This briefing is now in order. First on the floor is Captain Jamestown, with the burning question de rigeur..."

"Assembled ladies and gentlemen," Captain Jamestown began, then hesitated. "Well, no two ways about it, so I'll get right to the point. MHW-6428, the _Mjolnr_, will never jump again."

"What?" Star Admiral Centara was not the first to bolt out of his seat at that revelation. "What – why can it not be fixed?" After a moment, he relented; "resume your seats and calm down, people. All hope is not lost, just pissed on."

"Sir, by all rights that jump accident we had should have killed us all, not dropped us here with a mostly scorched core," Jamestown admitted. "When it superheated, it damaged more than just the necessary components of the core. It damaged the entire superstructure of the core housing and every support system necessary for the operation of jumping."

"Holy shit," Galaxy Commander Rico replied. "That's, what? Five times the necessary damage to render the core inop? More?"

"More by factor of ten," Wayne Centara replied.

"At least a factor of ten, maybe fifteen," James confirmed. "Honest reality time: the _Mjolnr_'s jump drive is beyond economical repair. It would literally cost us less in terms of manpower and resources to build a whole new _Phalanx_-class superdreadnought than it would to fix the _Mjolnr_. Period. End of file."

"Wow, holy fuck," Rico grunted.

"Be careful, man, you're running out of steps up the profanity ladder," Galaxy Commander Michaels warned his comrade.

"I may not be navy like half the people in this room, but I still got a goat-locker full of invective to fall back on," he half-growled. "So you're saying we're fucked and doomed to stay here, right?"

"No," Soritz Jamestown replied. "With the ratification of the Junius Treaty, we're fucked from a military standpoint; a class of fourth-graders armed with Popsicle sticks could kill us off rather easily. In terms of interdimensional travel, easy sauce. We'll get a way home in less than four years, provided we don't hit any major delays. More to the point, everyone is sharing the heavy lifting on building the civilian-model ships, so our outlay of effort will be less than the initial estimate for repairing the _Mjolnr_. Once the first run of ships is built, we can ferry our unit back to home lands one ship at a time if necessary, or just send a courier and call for some friends to drop by."

"We will hold off on that thought for some time," Wayne ordered. "We need not decide what we shall do until after we have the capability to do it; start dropping possibles like that, and the EA would try to eliminate us to prevent that happening."

"Why?" James asked, then a moment later: "Oh," he groused. "No shit, stupid," he smacked the side of his head with the flat of his hand, a gesture that caused his neck to creak in four distinct pops. "Threaten to bring some of the big boys to the party, and they'll get uber-paranoid."

"No shit," Michaels replied.

"As I said, we hold off on the actions we take with a Jump-capable ship. Now, this being said, it won't take long for anyone else to figure out we're blowing sunshine about the _Mjolnr_, so how do we drop that shoe?"

"We drop it quietly to independent press agents, run some of the better technical analysts through the hard numbers, make it clear that we're disappointed we can't get our ship home. From there we can disassemble the Jump Core and use it as a larder for feeding the new Jumpship projects," Jamestown opined. He had been thinking long and hard about this course of action, and it showed.

"Holy hell," Wayne said. "That's enough core material for a dozen small Jumpships."

"Actually less, given what was damaged beyond usable. I'd estimate we can get about five ships worth out of the remnants, which is still a damn good starting point. Six if we push our luck," Soritz didn't sound pleased with that thought.

"I take it you don't advise that," not a question, but a comment from the Star Admiral.

"No, best take no chances here."

"Then don't take a chance," Wayne ordered. "Plan on gutting the usable material out of the core and turning it over to the jumpship project. Once that is done we can use the core encapsulation as storage for another million tons of supplies. Too bad we can't use it for extra forces." It went without saying that you could not convert the jump core of a Warship into a typical hangar area, since the core was entirely inside the armor and had no direct access to the outside of the ship for launching units. You could, in theory, run it like the hangar deck on an old-school aircraft carrier, but Wayne suspected reengineering the _Mjolnr_ to do that would be a massive headache.

"Will do," Captain Jamestown replied in a clipped tone.

"So, what's next on the briefing?" Wayne asked.

"Well, we have the reports of the mobile forces draw-down," GC Michaels said. "It ain't pretty, but it is a treaty requirement...for the time being." He did not expect the treaty to hold for any serious length of time, but he wasn't going to say anything about it publicly.

"How much so far?"

"Half our forces are in compliance with the treaty, engines and powerplants removed. Thankfully the Battlemechs are not on the list, and the treaty states that all fighter and helicopter aircraft have only half the stated value of the Mobile Suits, so we are planning on running heavy on Fireballs."

"An interesting short-sight of the treaty," Wayne said, reminding himself that certain variants of the Fireball had more than enough firepower to slag down his Gundam to a sad satae of being commonly called 'spare parts'. "Now—" The Star Admiral was interrupted by the battle klaxon sounding in the hallway. Moments later the door swung open to the force of a Marine's shield pushing through it. "Where?"

"At least three locations in the colony. Possibly one attack headed here."

"Full forces alert," Wayne ordered. "No recall orders yet."

-x-

The activation orders had not fazed the Blue Cosmos cells whatsoever; more to the point, the troops were raring to go. So, when ordered, they were more than happy to suit up, lock and load, then march out the door into glory. Few expected serious resistance, even despite the presence of Armored Marines in the areas they were going to attack. The Blue Cosmos cells had been trained on ZAFT's failings in taking out the Armored Marines, and ZAFT really didn't know shit about infantry combat in their opinion. The faceplate was supposedly the weak-point on their armor; enough rifle shots to the face would do the trick. ZAFT was too dependent on their machines, just as these Magi pukes were. Blue Cosmos would hurt them badly for that shortsight.

"For the preservation of our blue and pure world," the commander said before he opened the door. All the troops nodded at their traditional chant, then followed closely.

There was an old lady in the corridor of the apartment building they were leaving, but she took one look at the six-man team and shrugged. This wasn't the first time they had stormed out of that apartment loaded for bear, and their usual destination was a firing range down-spin to blow out a couple hundred pounds of ammo. So, she thought nothing of it when they marched past her smiling like the cat about to consume the canary. A couple of kids were playing a multilevel game of tag throughout the apartment building, but none interfered with the troops. Telling which ones were Coordinators and which were Naturals was veritably impossible; Mendel's education and training systems pushed everyone hard, to the point that many of the Natural kids were just as fit and physically apt as some of ZAFT's Coordinators.

Outside the apartment building the atmosphere was as it always was: bustling with activity and purpose. Mendel was not a land for slouches; there wasn't much room in Magi society for dead weight, the society as a whole didn't tolerate n'er-do-wells and riffraff. As such, people moving around moved with a purpose; they did their things in an orderly fashion, never fast or urgently but never with overt sloth. Some of the kids from the nearby elementary school had let out for lunch; the older students were released to partake of the restaurants if they so desired, others could raid the cafeteria in the school or just wander until their next class. They were curtly reminded of their class schedule and remaining lunch break times by a small Personal Computer Device, something like a smart phone issued to all students in a school for tracking time, assignments, and other sundry skills. The BC members had their own PCDs, which they knew well how to use to communicate and coordinate, though had not used for operations prior to today.

As they rounded the corner nearby a street vendor fruit stand, all six saw the Armored Marines at the far corner, which they honestly expected. It would have worried them to no end if there were no Marines visible, since that meant they were waiting in ambush. As was expected, the troops just kept walking toward the two Armored Marines, who were hosting a small tournament of 'pull-up speed races' between some older students. The challenge was simplicity itself, and seemed like a good way to show off for the chicks: the participants would hang off the top edge of the Marine's shield and do pull-ups until they couldn't go farther. It also counted toward their physical battery in school, since the Marines would vouch for their achievements (or lack thereof).

"Morning, Point Commander," the cell lead said as he approached.

"Headed up-spin to the usual range?" the Marine asked.

"We are," he lied smoothly. "Can you call ahead; warn Louie I'm coming that way?"

"Will do," the Marine replied as the six passed by. Just like that, the major challenge to the security of the operation was bypassed. The Marines knew they were out and under arms, but they had a supposedly legit reason in going to one of the multiple firing ranges in town. To make it even more legit, they all had their weapons shoulder-slung rather than combat-slung, which further reduced suspicion.

"Just like that," the unit second said after they were outside the supposed 'earshot' (listening range) of the Armored Marines.

"Just like that."

"Where to?" the second asked.

"Dunno, we don't have any direct target." They were now approaching Commercial Block 4, which turned out to be very active for the early lunch-break crew. A lot of kids were involved, but such were the breaks. Mendel had to be 'poisoned' somehow, and all evidence pointed to the fact that no amount of chemical, bio, or nuclear weapons would be able to get in, so terrorism was the only viable option... "This looks good."

"Where to?" the second asked. He watched as two ladies about his age walked by, giggling about something that involved complicated hand gestures. Neither appeared armed, but they were in the minority of the people in the square; most persons above sixteen in the colony were armed with at least something, and a lot of that was evidenced within.

"Those alleys over there by the bistro, gives us some cover and three escape routes. We'll split up into trios and fire from cover, you take the second element. Wait for my cue to begin."

"Can do, sir," the second says. The best way for them to get there was just casually stroll through the fountain square, which again some people eyed them but nobody said anything. It was not unusual to see heavy-armed persons around, even civilians. Usually the civilians that had been witness to a BC attack or subjected to one and survived were the ones that were armed to the teeth at almost any time.

The two groups broke apart and went their somewhat separate ways; the Bistro in question had a low wall that made it perfect for an ad-hoc fighting position, giving them some cover when someone inevitably returned fire. The six members stopped at the low wall, unslung their rifles and braced them against the wall, leaned up against it or sat on the edge, and the leader lit up a smoke. After four drags, he flicked it aside and took up his weapon. There was little warning in the mass of people in the area; a few realized some shit was about to go down, but the bulk did nothing.

Next to the bistro, 'planetside' in the parlance of the colony (referring to the lengthwise direction toward the planet), was a fast-food restaurant catering to hurried businessmen and schoolchildren, specializing in chicken products. At one of the outdoor tables was a trio of ladies, two of which he knew to be Coordinators because of their natural hair color being emerald green and violet. Without a word, he dropped the safety on his rifle, sighted the nearer of the two up and walked a full-auto burst across all three. None of the three even realized what had happened to them before the bodies hit the floor; the commander saw the shirt of one stained red from three hits, the chest of the one (possible) natural veritably blown apart, and the green-haired Coordie would definitely need a closed-casket funeral due to the paired .223 rounds that tore her face up.

Just like that, Blue Cosmos began their claim of dominion over even the Magi. One burst, ten rounds and three ladies dead. Within moments, the other Blue Cosmos personnel began firing on their choice of restaurant, store, or crowd. Given the confines, it looked to be a good bloodbath...

...That went awry immediately. Before more than two bursts had been fired by any of his personnel, the Commander went down in a heap, his head splattered messily by the person sitting on the far side of the wall. A single .45 ACP round to the back of the head practically exploded his face into bloody shreds; his comrades had only a bare moment to realize something went wrong before they joined him. The businessman holding the pistol immediately began traversing to fire on the next BC shooter but was beaten to the punch by a dockworker carrying a sawed-off shotgun, whose single shot blew the left arm clean off the targeted terrorist. The third of the tangos on this side managed to spin around and rip a 'rock 'n' roll' burst on the two, but most of his shots passed between the two nearby shooters and into the water of the fountain beyond the bistro. He did clip the dockworker four times in the chest and the businessman once in the left arm, but he was engaged from three directions by a pair of Mk. 23 pistols, an old Colt Anaconda .44 magnum revolver, an M4 identical to the one he was using, and a Gunther KA-23 submachinegun. What was left of his body hit the ground in a bloody mess; the coroner would spend six hours picking fragments of his bone and tissue off the walls of the alleyway behind him.

The other side went down both harder and faster than their comrades. When they opened up a pair of unarmored Marines were walking civilian patrol in the market square; both reacted immediately. One was armed with a Gunther KA-23 similar to the one used by a hospital janitor across the square, the other with a merciless close-quarters combat shotgun. The first burst of Gunther wounded all three of the tangos, though one of them managed to turn on the Marines and rattle off a pair of three-round bursts; neither burst hit as all six rounds went high and into the side of an office building. The shotgun came up, one of the Magi's venerable MDBS-04C double-barreled pump-action combat shotguns, and loosed a pair of 10-gauge buckshot rounds into their group. Two of them took the pattern in the chest, the third was shielded from injury by his comrades. The last terrorist, realizing his friends were now dead, dropped his rifle and tried running down the alley to escape; tried, in that his legs had taken three hits he had not felt due to the adrenaline running his body. He stumbled forward three steps, fell face flat, and screeched his pain.

Immediately the crowd surged inward, four civilians had jumped the low wall and kicked clear weapons from the terrorists on the left side; others had done the same for the commander's team, but they were pretty much the bloodiest of dead and of little threat. The last surviving terrorist of this cell watched as an off-duty nurse stripped him of any of his weapons, then began bandaging his leg wounds. He couldn't find the voice to say anything to them, especially the Marines now on the scene, much less the civilians standing around with drawn weapons. Many civilians, many weapons pointed at him. Many more than he thought possible. In what was left of his consciousness, he thought that it was weird...

-x-

For Gerald, the ongoing engineering work pertaining to the Thunderbolt Omnifighter was something he paid attention to, and close attention at that. Though it had been more or less turned over to Mendel Aerospace Engineering for free (he wasn't even asking for a cut), it was still his project inside the confines of his mind. All things considered, however, he was smart enough to avoid making it look like he was being stifling, or even to attempt to micromanage the detail work. Gerald had not beat the odds for as long as he had done so by micromanaging anything except himself. And maybe his Mobile Armor.

"Damn," Gerald muttered, looking at the first of the Thunderball prototypes as the technicians began fitting the modular hardpoints for the omni-pods into the wing frame.

"Never expecting to see this come reality, were you?" Ezalia Joule asked. Silence was the answer. "Oh ye of little faith," she began the usual saw, but paused, thinking of what she wanted to say; "Which trait I find surprising for someone of your command acumen and combat skills..."

"Honestly, I don't expect to leave here," Gerald replied.

"Don't tell security that, or they'll find an inventive way to drag you out of here," Ezalia noted.

"No, no, I mean this dimension. They're probably going over it right now in briefing at the admin building, but I've known for a few days that the final report was in."

"And?" Ezalia prompted.

"The _Mjolnr_ is now the biggest in-system monitor in, well, _ever_. I believe the line Jamestown is going to drop on the Star Admiral is 'it would cost less to build a whole new _Phalanx_ than it would be to repair the _Mjolnr_,' which says a lot for how much damage we did to it."

"Ouch," Ezalia replied. The total dry cost of a _Phalanx_-class ship, without units or personnel, exceeded the entire operating budget of ZAFT for a decade plus ZAFT's MS research and development budget for two years. Therefore, anything that cost more than that sum was real money in the parlance of government officials.

"Yeah, so while we work on a Plan B, we need something to keep the wolves at bay."

"Thankfully, that doesn't include ZAFT," Ezalia replied.

"Want some honesty?" Gerald asked bluntly after a moment's silence.

"Hit me," Ezalia replied.

"It _may_ include ZAFT, though not immediately if at all," he said quietly. "I don't know what the game is up top in ZAFT, but they really changed their tune halfway through the negotiations. They're playing real nice, and we just whupped the hell out of the ZAFT military not three months ago. That sound strange to you?"

"Has to be Durandal," Joule replied. "He's got something going on."

The sound of gunfire was just barely audible where they stood, a few muted pops and a scream in the distance. "That sounded eerily familiar, though. You carrying?"

"Always," Ezalia replied. During her time as one of the Defense Council for ZAFT, she had always carried in case Blue Cosmos tried running an attack against her. It never happened, but you didn't expect to survive without some preparation. Same thing here in Mendel; she never expected to use it, but she did carry.

"Oi! Build team!" Gerald shouted loud enough that everyone stopped what they were doing. "We have incoming! Shut off your welders and grab your weapons!"

"Oh shit!" Everyone clambered off the skeleton of the Thunderball and headed for their individual toolboxes. As a rule, most of the technicians did not carry while working on the bird, due to the chance of it going off while doing some funky gymnastics inside the frame. All weapons were kept readily available on or in toolboxes. Someone had even mounted a rifle rack to the side of one of the mechanic's rolling tool carts; all four of the shotguns kept in it were now removed and in the hands of four very pissed-off welders.

"South side, southeast corner! Take cover!" Gerald ordered as he ducked in behind one of the massive rolling tool carts. "I sense ten, four of them are headed upstairs! Ten seconds! I'll fire first, then everyone else!"

The sound of gunfire from the one security officer was answered by a machine gun, Ezalia could easily recognize the sharp bark of an Earth Alliance bullpup assault rifle. One of the doors came open on the indicated wall, followed by surprisingly audible footsteps. "Whoa, holy shit, that's one big bird!"

"We need to find some way to destroy it, the brass think it's important to 'em," an older one said.

Gerald peeked the front of his gun just over the handlebar on the cart, using the bar itself to brace and steady his aim. All things considered, he didn't need the brace, the nearest enemy had advanced to a mere ten meters in front of him, an easy shot with a pistol from a crouch position. Two shots rang out in the aircraft hangar, both slugs hammered the tango in the upper chest and caused him to drop straight down, gurgling blood from his severed trachea and smashed brachial plexus.

"FUCK!" the enemy lead shouted as every toolbox and pile of scrap sprouted a gun of some kind. The shooting only lasted three seconds by Gerald's watch, and was about as one-sided as an ambush ever could be.

"Anyone hit?" Ezalia shouted over the ringing in her ears.

"Me, took a round in the leg, blew out my tibia," one of the avionics technicians groaned.

Gerald pulled his radio. "All forces on band 2-A-1, this is Gerald Lightbringer, need priority medical and Marine response to Mendel Aerospace Engineering, minimum ten insurgents have attacked facility."

"Century Commander Lightbringer, this is 3-Delta-12 of the Marines, mortar team. Do you require fire support?"

"Negative, enemy forces are inside structure, repeat negative call for fire. If you are close enough to range for mortars, can you apply direct fire?"

"Aff, if I knew where they were," the Marine on the other end of the radio replied.

Gerald looked around. "You two, first aid on this guy, medics should be here shortly. You," he points to a welder. "ZAFT mil, right?"

"Aye, sir," the welder replied.

"Feel like going up top?" Gerald asked as he dropped the partial magazine out and replaced it with a spare magazine from one of the deceased terrorists that was carrying the same type of pistol.

"Lead the way, sir," he replied before he did the same reload as Gerald.

Outside in the main lobby area, the security guard fared about as well as Gerald expected: he got two at the door, but didn't make it himself. A blood trail up the stairs told that a third had taken a pelting from a shotgun, and a body at the top of the stairs, propping open the doorway, told that one of the engineers had finished punching his ticket. Inside the second-floor cubicle farm gunfire still echoed from one side to the other, and Gerald needed only home in on the distinct bark of the EA assault rifles to find them. They had been cornered in the CEOs office, and were firing out of the room at some of the engineers that were using the cube farm as cover; a third terrorist lay wounded and gasping just outside that door.

"Marines 3-Delta-12, this is Lightbringer, I'm going to set a sensor puck down on the ground where I stand. Fifteen meters spinward from my location is a room with two shooters. Take them both out with direct fire only, no explosives, clear?"

"Aye, awaiting your sensor sweep." Gerald set down the remote senor puck and thumbed the activate button.

Once the light went green on the little device, he need only wait three seconds for the mother of all ass-whupping to drop in on the tangos. Much as he ordered, it was direct fire that brought them down; the distinct micro-explosion sound of 20mm Panzersturmgewehr (armor assault rifle) fire cut through the sounds of EA rifles and Magi pistols. When Gerald swept forward to clear the room, he needed only take one look inside the CEO's office, then he holster his pistol. "Marines, Lightbringer, good shoot, two tangos confirmed KIA. Roll medical, we have wounded up here including one terrorist."

"Blue Cosmos?" one of the Engineers shouted over the sound of ringing in his ears.

_Aff, it is Blue Cosmos_, Gerald replied telepathically, since it was easier and more assured to be heard than shouting. _Where is your CEO_?

"Right here," someone else shouted. "I was in the toilet when this went down, and decided to stay there."

_Wise man_, Gerald commented.

-x-

Ashe had this sickening feeling all day, and she knew not why. It definitely wasn't the final exams coming up next week, that was relatively routine and she didn't see any hitches, it was just an unending feeling of...angst, almost. And if anything, it had only grown worse over the past hour. Stepping out of the building to take lunch had only made it feel worse.

"Hello, Ashe?" Leon asked. "Where you at?"

"I don't feel right, something doesn't feel right," Ashe commented. "Like...angst, almost," she replied. "Like someone is trying to rip someone's heart out barehanded, that kind of feeling."

"What are you talking about? I've never felt that," Sapphire replied between bites of a pimento spread sandwich.

"It's...I don't know what I feel," she admitted.

"Show us," Leon requested, then held out his hand. All three touched, creating the link that made them more than they were separate.

Ashe, alone, could only feel the rough edges of something far darker than even she believed possible. Ashe, alone, could only just barely hear the anguish as someone burned to death in their own home. Ashe, alone, could just barely feel the mirthless glee of someone who watched a Coordinator burn to death. Ashe, unlike the bulk of people living on Earth and in Copernicus and in the PLANTs, did hear Gerald Lightbringer's feral shout to Rau Le Creuset that one day.

She knew she had something that few humans had, but with the addition of Leon and Sapphire into her being her skills amplified significantly. Calamira had called it a triangle, a bond formed between Strategic Psionics that added and amplified the skills of each into one far more powerful entity.

In this case, what she immediately sensed was enough to cause her to choke up. Four teams of Blue Cosmos marauders were in the colony, and one of them was almost within visual range of the school, which they intended to attack. _Oh my God, what do we do? We're about to be assaulted by Blue Cosmos_! Ashe asked her two comrades.

_I—I don't know, I don't know what we can do! Is there anything_? Sapphire asked in a half-panic.

_They're on the far side of the school for now, if they do open up, we run. We're not armed yet and we're not trained to fight_, Leon told them adroitly. _We have to be alive to make a difference_.

_Aff, you must be alive to make a difference, but these Blue Cosmos pukes will not live much longer. What of the other three attacks? Check them out, while you are linked_. It did not take the three long to find the mental speaker, a Ghost standing on the roof of a nearby low-rise apartment building. From where they sat, they could see no telltale of her presence, which didn't surprise them at all. Ghosts were, after all, invisible to the naked eye.

Ashe focused the three onto each of the battles in question. Not one was pretty; Sapphire retched once, but managed to hold her gorge. _The attack on the market square was a complete blowout, civilian gunners took them down hard. At the engineering firm, the Century Commander stymied them with some Marine assistance. The team assigned to the administration building has not begun their attack yet_, Ashe replied to the Ghost's order.

_You are truly as efficient as the Strategic Officer claims; it will be good for her to take a break once in a while now that effective backup is available_, the Ghost replied. _It begins_.

Some of the students eyed the armed group on the far side of the street with a wary eye. Others ignored them, as weapons were commonplace and somewhat expected inside Mendel. Still others feared the worst, and prepared to upend tables for cover in short order. It was the last group with the right idea, and the last group that ended up preventing any civilian casualties on this attack.

A few rounds were loosed by two of the shooters, though most of them did not get the chance to even drop the hammer. The blast of four grenades among the seven tangos effectively annihilated three of them completely and killed the other four. Ashe had seen video of the weapon used and knew its sound, but the effect of a Mark 19 Mod 7A automatic grenade launcher was surreal in its finest. Like an overlarge and somewhat slow machine gun, the four rounds were loosed and four blasts killed the seven terrorists.

The three Psionics heard the death-flash of their minds as they were sundered quickly, but even that was a cold pall to their intentions. They hated, they wanted to see blood, they desired nothing less than the annihilation of genetic abominations. All of that flashed through their minds in the instant of death; like a lightbulb, their minds burned the brightest the moment prior to its unbecoming. In stark contrast, the Ghost was serenity itself, the slaughter of terrorists was nothing more than an alpha task to her and did not even engender pity for the poor fools she had laid to waste. That was almost as obscene as the terrorists in Ashe's opinion.

_Oh yes, Psion, it is obscene_, the Ghost replied to the unstated criticism. _We are the wolves posing as sheepdogs, and to the sheep there is no difference. Listen not to the mind, but the heart; within the soul of those you see in your mind's eye will you find the true core of their being. The mind can fool itself, but the subconscious and the deepest recesses of one's psyche cannot hide and cannot lie. That is the duty to which you are promised; Gods help those you must spy upon_.

Most of the school had flooded back into the school at the nearby battle, though a few went to check on the less obviously dead. Ashe did not warn them they were wasting their time, but instead did as the Ghost said and looked into the Ghost as a practice. What she found inside the Ghost was extremely perverted and somewhat kinky, but in the rest she found more than ample reason to remain in Mendel.

After all, you did not often find someone who lived to defend complete strangers by way of killing anything and everything needed to ensure honor and life remained.

-x-

The fourth attack cell missed their operations timing by five minutes, meaning that Mendel collectively knew what was happening by the time they were set up and in position.

The Mendel Administration Building was one of the taller structures in the colony, and the space within was put to good use by the command and communication section of the Mendel government. Finding their target area was nothing spectacular. Getting inside would be appropriately rough, given the two Marines at the door; regardless of what the training said on the planet below, these guys didn't look like they would even be annoyed by a mere assault rifle.

"What do we do now, boss?" one of the team's assaulters asks.

"I don't know, I'm thinking," Daniel replied immediately. "We gotta do something, but if we do what we wanted to do, we're dead men to no apparent gain."

"Then what?" the same assaulter asked in a frustrated tone.

"We need to find something high-profile to try, preferably something not guarded by a Star of really pissed off Marines."

"Outstanding idea, boss," the quiet guy in the formation noted; everyone could tell it was a sarcastic remark. "And maybe we can also flee in the face of the enemy while we're at it."

"You want to kill yourself? Have at it, I'm not going to stop you," Daniel groused.

"This is bullshit! Since when does a damn administration hide behind heavy military forces?"

"Um, what about this place?" the unit greenhorn asked, pointing to the building they stood next to, which was directly across the street from the administration building. "Nobody in this building, we could go up top and shoot across."

The commander looked at it, then sighed. He was right, and more to the point it was probably the only viable option for taking down at least one of the command structure.

"We go around back," he said. The group split up and went down two separate alleys to the rear of the building in question, though merged again at the rear entrance of the building. "Alarm service?"

"Lemme check," the tech wizard of the unit used a pocket knife to force open the telecom service box. "Erm, shitload of data connections, but nothing specifically labeled alarm. Kick the door in, see if anything happens. Worst case, we run like fuck."

_This is rapidly approaching Three Stooges territory_, Daniel thought but did not say. After nodding twice in a silent prayer to an otherwise helpful God, he jumped up and drop-kicked the door hard enough to bend all three hinges and shred the lock mechanism. In the eerie sound of impact afterward there was no sound of an alarm going off, so his team hiked in.

"Stairs, mother-fucking stairs, why isn't there a bloody elevator around here?"

"Elevators require power, dipshit, and this building is shut off. Even if there is an elevator, we couldn't use it."

"Fuck," the same machine-gunner grunted.

"Shut up and march, all of you," Daniel ordered.

"Join Blue Cosmos, see the world, kill lots of Coordinators, bullshit in a shiny wrapper. When I get back planetside, I am so fragging my recruiter."

"Do I detect a bit of complaining?" Daniel asked with a clear smile. Given the choice, he would have joined his subordinate in fragging the recruiters, because this shit wasn't in the operational expectations...

"Sir, no sir! I wouldn't miss this shoot-ex (1) for the world!" the same assaulter replied.

"Fifth floor, two more," the lead trooper noted.

"Wait, we only have seven floors here? Oh shit, this ain't going to be easy, sir."

"Just shut up and march," Daniel ordered, his legs starting to get cramps from the stairs.

Once on the empty seventh floor, the eight-man team pulled a collection of abandoned desks over toward the windows facing the administration building. The desks were arrayed as bracing platforms for the shooters to take steady shots at the far building, and also for a modicum of cover from return fire. A few more desks were upended and set on their side, so they could be used as makeshift barriers to block view as they retreated to the stairwell.

"All right, here's the operations plan. We use our home-made breaching charges to blow our windows," and he holds up the packs of wrapped and directionally-mounted gunpowder for the demo expert on the team to place. "Once the windows go, unload on the windows directly across from us. Don't try shooting higher or lower than our level, we want grazing fire throughout the whole level. It is fairly evident that we would never have gotten a crack at their command structure, but we can take out some of their sub-commanders. We'll do a couple of mags each, then boogie. No sense waiting around for a response."

"Yes, sir," they all chanted in response.

"Demo's ready, boss," they were using improvised electrical igniters to set off the gunpowder shape charges, which Daniel had made sure there were enough igniters available to put two in each charge. He knew enough about explosives to know that there wasn't such a thing as 'too safe'.

"Everybody stand to," Daniel ordered. When weapons were up, cocked and ready to rock, the cell commander nodded to the demo weenie.

The shape charges all did exactly as was designed, they spider-cracked the windows from translated blast shock. There was no way such a small and pathetic charge could have rightly destroyed the whole window, and a charge to do just that would have killed the whole team at this range. In the end, the result was more than ample to their purpose; after the first echo of the blast returned, all eight guns of the unit opened up on the windows directly across the street. The glass across the street immediately began breaking inward, the bullets passing through the glass and into parts unseen on the inside thus far; with a little work, most of the window was cleared away so they could see their handiwork as they continued.

After the first magazines by the team, one guy lay slumped over his desk, a wench rested on her sofa dead with a guy nearby on the ground, also dead, and possibly a secretary was visible through a door. Daniel loaded up a second magazine and began firing random bursts through the office walls visible, in the hopes that a round would catch someone on the far side of those walls. Ten tri-burst salvos went downrange, then he began loading in a third magazine to continue the dirty work. "What the hell was that?" one of his subordinates shouted.

"What?" Daniel shouted over the ringing in his ears.

"There!" the desks rattled to some unseen but felt force. "There again!" another rattle caused some of the brass to shake on the ground.

"What is that?" all firing had ceased on the third impact.

"Oh, fuck, it's a Mobile Suit of some kind," the point-man for the unit said.

"There! Behind and to the right!"

Daniel looked in the requested direction, just in time for the world to flash bright neon violet.

-x-

"Command, this is Experimental-3-6 reporting tangos in building across from Admin have been silenced. Appears we have two survivors, get some medical up there to secure 'em."

"Echo-3-6, Command, good shooting. How many tangos?"

"Eight man squad, all with long arms," she replied.

"Roger that, return to hangar for refuel and to have your log cartridges pulled. This one is done."

"Aff, Command;" the pilot sighed thereafter. It made for a valid weapons test, but there definitely was no challenge in hosing down eight unarmored infantry with a pair of 27mm beam machine guns. "All systems show green, looks like the modifications to this one are holding up. Golf-Xray-9-9-0-1-Mike-Echo-1, returning to base."

As the Gundam left the ground and vectored down the null-gravity zone in the central area of the colony, she reminded herself that the Magi issued those strange things called 'Pilot's Armor' for a reason. Flying without a normal suit or pilot's armor tended to do weird things to one's blood pressure, though she didn't have the time to get out of the cockpit and suit up when the first call came in. Combat was afoot, and all indications were that someone was trying desperately to kill civilians inside the colony; the attack pattern made no sense if you considered they were trying to attack anything of military value. That meant some form of paramilitary / clandestine organization, and that meant Blue Cosmos.

It was good enough for another sigh from the pilot of the heavily modified Gundam Double X. At least she was in place fast enough to cause some serious casualties before too many had been killed on this rampage.

-x-x-x-

(12 December C.E. 71, 1100 Hours)  
(ZAFT Supreme Council chamber)

Chairman Gilbert Durandal had accepted authority from Eileen Canaver at noon on the 10th of December, C.E. 71, and was expected to hold the chairman position for four years from 1 January C.E. 72. He maintained no illusions: this would be a hellishly long four years.

Gilbert knew that a game was afoot, and he knew what the game was, though he also knew that ZAFT's position was seriously impinged by first the massive beat-down delivered by Mendel and later by the two treaties. Thus, his job for the next four years would be to bring ZAFT up to speed and secure a solid position for the PLANTs that could not be violated by the other parties, including Mendel. For that, he needed experts, he needed operators and mostly he needed hard intel on all the parties. He had personnel working on all three even as he stood to deliver his inaugural speech.

Yesterday was the initial briefings and usual housekeeping tasks, the necessary operations plans and establishing of authority that comes with the change of leadership. Today, the groundwork would be laid for ZAFT's course.

"From here on out our goal is simple. We are in a race with the other nations of the world to establish hegemony on other planets and begin the interstellar expansion the Magi have done for countless eons, but which they are denied here. We are in a race to secure our position such as cannot be violated even by the loudest and most vehement of our neighbors. We are in a race of arms, despite the wording of the Junius Treaty; for sure the Earth Alliance will not hold to it, Orb may hold to it, and Mendel definitely will not hold to it except by the most strict definition of the limits. We are in a race to push ourselves farther, faster, harder than humanity has ever seen itself pushed."

There were some murmurs from certain of the old hands on the council, but nobody challenged his position. He decided it was time to sink the hook with a high-minded statement of intent. "We are now in a race to stand on our own two feet." He smiled almost devilishly at the council. "The Magi have an interesting name for Earth, besides the old Greek term for it: 'Terra'. They often call the planet below us the 'Cradle of Humanity'. Whether they intend it or not, such phrasing also counts as challenge to the people who live on the planet or around it, an unstated addendum that those who cling to the planet below have themselves not left the cradle." Nobody present knew that Gilbert had grossly mischaracterized the Magi, albeit completely unintentionally, by reading into an old Magi phrase far deeper than the Magi ever used it. Nobody stood to the line of challenge to correct him, so he continued. "It is now possible that we can leave the cradle, the boundaries built inside our own minds, for Mendel will show us the way to the stars. Now is the time we give our descendants a future worthy of our efforts, instead of simply squabbling over chunks of land on one single fragile planet."

Durandal looked around the council and saw the consternation on the faces of some of the persons at the table. "Herein lies the moment of pivot: we can change the course of ZAFT's future, take the path to the heavens and ensure a future adequate to our descendants, or we may practice the same methods and operations we have been for decades, in the hopes that the other nations do not cut us off and starve us to death." The consternation on those few he figured on the edge cleared up, given such a moral decision to make; in those incapable of making such a leap of faith and will, the consternation deepened. Gilbert knew he had called the game, and now was the time to implement the power-play.

"It is no secret I have been studying these enigma, these Magi, trying to understand what landed in our homeland. Everyone here has an opinion on the matter, and many of those opinions are fairly derogatory. You should hear what the Earth Alliance thinks of them, I never knew such invective was possible in the English language. Even still, the answer is far simpler than anyone would put word to: they are the condemned of the Magi Admiralty, sentenced to an execution by apathy by people with authority far greater than this council. Still they live on; still they stand defiant of any challengers; still they forge their own destiny. They have stood between civilians and nuclear weapons, they have visited immense destruction on the two preeminent military organizations of a planet, and they have integrated themselves into the planetary society with remarkable alacrity. Most people cannot understand **how** they do it. The answer is writ in their music, plainly visible to anyone who listens. It...it finally clicked to me after hearing the song Seven Days to The Wolves, by the band that might as well serve as the Magi's national band and authors of their anthem, Nightwish. A single line from the song tells their story. I quote: 'This is where heroes and cowards part ways'."

There was a murmur from the assembled, but a short one. Durandal knew he had their attention, despite the relative cheesiness of such a turn of phrase. "Everything they do makes sense when you apply that sentiment as a filter for their actions. Where other soldiers would shy away, they charge in with shields and swords raised. What other navies would see as impossible to sink, they have destroyed countless times. What other societies would recoil from in horror, they shall do time and time again. In short, the Jumpship destined for the lands of the Magi is where heroes and cowards part ways, because the Magi have no use for cowards. They are a society with no collective fear, no inhibitions as we would understand the term, and little in the way of boundaries or borders.

"The PLANTs were founded by the brave; permanent colonies were still experimental and hazardous when the first PLANT was sketched out by George Glenn. Today we all live with the knowledge that the PLANTs are the only thing between us and the cold nothingness of space; would we be standing here if we could not stomach that thought? When we were faced with nuclear annihilation, did we back down and accede to the demands of the mass murders trying to maintain control over us? In no case have we ever given in to our fears, to external intimidation; the bravery and resolution of ZAFT has given the old world pause time and time again. It is now time to summon forth that bravery, the steel of resolution, for the days we will need it in spades have come upon us. We do not lack for the courage, we lack only the will to use it."

There were a few assents to his declaration, but most were still silent. "Today, once again the heroes and the cowards will part ways. I learned a lot in the days of the negotiations, but the one great fact I learned is that forces exist attempting to drive Existence back to the status quo of years past. These forces are loud and powerful, but shadowy and reclusive to the point that most the public does not understand their existence. They will act to prevent Mendel from paving the path to the stars for us or for themselves. They will act to prevent ZAFT from providing for itself, and thereby force us into a form of slavery; dependent on their whims for food and necessary resources. They will suborn the nations of the planet below to their whims and turn neutral lands into proxy warzones until even they acquiesce. These forces have no name we recognize, have no corporeal form we can discern, but that they exist is questioned by no party at the treaty negotiations. We cannot act against what we cannot see, but we can act in direct counter to their intentions and thereby force them to take visible actions and we will pin them down. Without doubt the other nations have already begun their campaigns to strengthen their internal positions and prevent such larceny and extortion. Our representatives at the negotiations took several key steps to better divide the marionette's attention while we begin our rebuilding. In the coming days, we must begin our courses of action to prepare for the road to come, and consolidate with our allies to gain the greatest benefit from relationships of mutual honor and trust."

The Council was rightly silent at his request. With one short exposition, Durandal had reversed the near-isolationism that hallmarked ZAFT's policy over the past few years. "The days of laying blame and sulking about what could have been are over. The citizens of the PLANTs do not have time to spare for us to bicker about the past, or wring hands about niceties that are assuredly lost on certain parties;" the two members of the council that advocated closer ties to the Earth Alliance bristled at his declaration, since it was a clear warning shot towards their rank. "This is the time to act. This is the time to secure our future. Fate does not often give second chances; I suggest we do not squander this one, for there may not be a third."

The reaction was slow from the council, but in the end Gilbert got the reaction he expected. Applause from the bulk, those willing to take the leap of faith and push themselves forward. Even the few without clear motivation were on their feet, whether to simply not look ostracized or in genuine support Durandal was not sure. Those with reservations he would be seeing to shortly, though in a peaceable fashion; assassinating public figures was both messy and far from guaranteed, so he would offer them a clean 'out' to clear the way for more effective personnel to take their positions. He needed a solid, unified front to counter the Earth Alliance force in numbers, the shrewdness of the Orb leadership, and the sheer mobility and flexibility of Mendel's commanding officers. The grounds to come were definitely not the proper place for cowards.

The approach of three uniformed ZAFT officers brought the applause to a quick end. "Is something amiss?" Durandal asked the lead black-coat.

"Sir, there's been a terrorist assault in Mendel," the officer replied. "The last report was 10 civilians killed, 22 wounded, and four terrorists captured with an unknown amount killed during the attack. One of our intelligence officers confirms the report in part, having been across the street when one of the attacks occurred at an aerospace engineering firm."

"When will they release video?" one of the Defense Council members asked.

"Video? Of a terrorist attack?" Durandal asked, almost in shock at such a macabre happening.

"Definitely," the same Defense Council member replied. "They released an amazing amount of boresight footage from their battles at Jachin Due, and showing how quickly the Blue Cosmos pukes failed in their mission would only serve to strengthen their position—and declare the ineptitude of their foes."

"They said that what video they have of the counterattacks will be released prior to 2000 tonight. At least two of the four attacks do not have video, they were civilian take-downs in unmonitored areas, and one of the attacks was silenced completely by civilians." Such reports were exaggerated, but it was all ZAFT had picked up from the press available.

"It would appear the proxy war for influence has begun in earnest," Durandal opined. "Thankfully, the other players in this most dangerous game are not hesitant about defending themselves. Now, what of our preparations for this ongoing issue?"

-x-x-x-

(12 December C.E. 71, 1200 Hours)  
(Office of the Chairman of the Earth Alliance, 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, District of Columbia (former United States territory))

Symbolically, the trappings had not changed since they had been established by the President of the United States in centuries past. Only their users had changed, first from the United States, to the Atlantic Federation, to the Earth Alliance. It was this last that was turning out to be the hardest on the ancient desk, his fist echoing defiance at the turn of fate now manifest on television.

"God DAMN it Djibril, you said this operation was airtight, but Mendel was all over our forces from the word 'go'. How?" Chairman Riseman asked fairly.

"I don't know; operational security was, as you said, airtight. If they were being tailed, they knew they were to break off the attack and evac the colony, not go down in a blaze of mediocrity." Which is exactly what it amounted to: over twenty dead Blue Cosmos operators for a total of 12 Mendel civilians KIA and barely two dozen wounded. Only civilians, and most of them demonstrably helpless or overtly surprised. Not. One. Military. Officer. The most forgiving description Djibril had heard of the outcome was 'epic failure' and it only got worse from there.

"Now what?" Riseman asked.

"Well, were this a terrestrial court, we would be making the usual overtures to the judges about the surviving officers," he admitted. "Unfortunately this is Mendel we are talking about, not Earth, and if you threatened their mothers they'd only laugh at you since most of their mothers are retasked aluminum trash cans." Riseman gave Lord Djibril a sideways glance but said nothing about the attempted joke. "We can't threaten them into dealing with us on the sly, so we may have to take a more forceful and direct approach, or let our officers go and try again, harder, next time."

"Agent Bryce, please have the Signals room establish a land-line link to Heavens Base. I need to speak to Admiral Sutherland," Chairman Riseman ordered.

"Yes, sir," said agent then ducked out of the room to have the link established.

"I intend on breaking those men free, even if I have to run a commando raid against Mendel to get them out." Riseman sighed. "We need successes, not these half-assed abortions." Riseman's phone rang. "Riseman," he said into the speakerphone.

"Sir, Signals says the have an uplink to Heavens Base," the secretary said.

"Please have it connected in." A hidden monitor rose out of a cabinet on the south wall of the room. When it was fully raised, the screen clicked on and showed the inside of Heavens Base command center.

"Chairman, Admiral Sutherland," the Admiral reported somewhat unnecessarily. Riseman had seen him once or twice, but had not gotten to know him as well as he had known Halberton. "I have the final report from Mendel: thirteen targets killed, nineteen wounded to varying degrees, twenty-eight of our men killed and four wounded prior to capture. The news reports are fairly adamant about four having been captured, so we can assume that is real."

"Understood, anything else to report?" Riseman asked.

"Aye sir, I am told by my bondsman that the circumstances surrounding the captives is not good. It is unlikely they would barter even with the relative of a head of state," William Sutherland reported in a clipped monotone.

"What? Which head of state?" Riseman demanded clarification.

"You, Chairman," William immediately realized he didn't understand where this thread had gone. "One of the captives is Daniel Gromms, sir. He was the cell commander for Alpha-four, the unit tasked with the assault on their command structure."

"Oh," Riseman replied, then fell silent for a few moments. "Oh, shit! Anita—" He was referring to his sister, Anita, who had a son Daniel Gromms.

"Sir, I have already asked one of my old academy classmates to convey her the news," Sutherland replied. "Should be at her house within the next five minutes, since it is safe to use helicopters now."

"What can we do to get them out?" The Chairman asked sharply.

"That is what I wanted to tell you, sir," William sighed in the pause thereafter. "There effectively are no options available to us, including the use of military force. I just found out that all of our operations are compromised by default, even stuff so classified they don't tell _you_ about it, sir."

"By default? How?" Riseman ignored the quip about them not telling him stuff, since he intellectually knew it was accurate.

"They have a special asset," he replied. "It's similar to the Moebius Zero project, the pilots with the enhanced spatial awareness, but it's a different subset of mental skill. The Magi's term for it is Strategic Psionic, and it boils down to incredibly powerful telepaths trained to read the minds of high-value targets and discern the thoughts of people before they can attack."

"Strategic Officer Calamira Weste," Lord Djibril noted coldly. "I knew it was strange for even the Magi to have two ranking commanders on a ship, that explains her purpose."

"Hold on, Lord Djibril," Sutherland said. "Calamira is a rated command officer, and arguably is a better one than the Star Admiral. The catch is, her primary job is to read our minds."

"Oh God, that's gotta be illegal or something," Riseman groused.

"There is no law against it," Sutherland countered. "They knew long before we were going to attack. They knew to direct forces into position to deal with them. And they will know what is coming before we even send a new force out to try to free our men. There is no way to win this one, and further actions will simply provoke further blood. I don't like it, but there's no way around it."

Riseman was silent, thinking about the new and very perverse twist this operation had taken. "Damn! It's like they can read the whole bloody deck of cards! How can we stop this?" Djibril asked angrily. "Nukes! We nuke Mendel—"

"Belay that," Riseman said. "Sutherland, is your Bondsman present?"

Admiral Sutherland looked off-camera. "Janei, you are wanted by the Chairman."

"Aff," a rough voice replied immediately. Sutherland stepped far enough aside for the hulking Bondsman to squeeze into the frame. "Bondsman Janei, at your service, Chairman," he said.

"Bondsman, we are given to understand there is no hope for a clandestine operation in Mendel to free our captured personnel. What of direct challenge?"

The Bondsman thought the matter over for a quick second. "Given Magi regulations, the Star Admiral cannot entertain Trials of Possession relating to the captured terrorists, nor is he allowed to pardon them in any fashion. Therefore, they will go to Tribunal, and given the hard evidence it is very doubtful they will walk away free men. There is one option at that point, but it is long-ball odds."

"Explain, please," Lord Djibril requested.

"Once the Tribunal is concluded, there is a window within which the results of the Trial may be Refused, that is, you may challenge the Tribunal to a Trial of Refusal to overturn the verdict. This right cannot be denied to anyone under Magi law, but it can and very likely will be made practically impossible for you to succeed in Refusing the verdict. If the Star Admiral throws it open to a general vote, the results of that vote will provide the margin of force for the trial. If, say, the vote comes back six in your favor to thirty thousand against, then you can expect to maybe be allowed six unarmored infantry to face off against the _Hyperion_, I would say," the Bondsman opined, to the gape-mouthed shock of all three persons listening to him. "As I said, it is highly unlikely you would get even possible odds to Refuse the tribunal."

"They're as good as dead?" The Chairman asked, incredulous. "No appeals, no leverage, nothing?"

"I am afraid so, Chairman," the Bondsman replied solemnly. "Insurgents are viewed as the same as the Bandit Caste was viewed by the Clans of old: fit for target practice and no more. That any were taken prisoner is rather stunning, and the system is geared for maximum incentive for their comrades not to come back for seconds."

"Mandatory execution," Lord Djibril replied. The matter was simplicity itself: the death penalty wasn't so much as a punishment as it was a deterrent to others. Once you execute a criminal, the fact that you are punishing him is rather a moot point because he or she is no longer alive, but the fact that said criminal was executed is supposed to make a good deterrent. It typically did not work in practice, since the most 'civil' of societies made it veritably impossible to actually do the execution in such a way to provide deterrence, therefore the crimes to which that was a punishment were not deterred. Apparently the Magi did their executions in such a way that it was geared for maximum deterrence...

"Aff, Lord Djibril, mandatory public execution in the fashion of choice by the executed parties," the former Mobile Suit pilot said. "The smart ones among their ranks will choose to be executed by way of Mobile Suit or Battlemech energy weapons, a quick and painless death. Beheading or firing squad are also options. Spacing is also a possibility, but that is a hellish method to die and generally reserved only for cases of treason or mass murder, which this would not count for."

"No hope," Chairman Riseman said glumly. "No hope. Can it even be done?" he asked the bondsman.

"Permission to speak freely, Chairman Riseman?" the eugenic bondsman requested.

"Granted," he replied quietly.

"The attempt may look good in the newspapers, may make some noise on the news, but it will accomplish nothing more than to get additional personnel killed. Those four operators are essentially dead men."

"Thank you," he replied. "Admiral, continue to gather intel and write up a full report on this Strategic Psionic for me. I need to know what I can and cannot expect from now on."

"Aye sir," the Admiral replied.

"Dismissed," and he used a control on his desk to kill the feed and rescind the television. "Ideas?"

"If we can't sneak past them, we can only hit them so hard they cannot counter it," Djibril noted. "I have a few ideas pertaining to hammering them flat, admittedly derived from their own stunts, but we can probably eke out a win with the right preparations..."

-x-x-x-

(15 December C.E. 71, 1000 Hours)  
(USSA Main Garrison, Manaus (Brazil), USSA Territory)

Edward Harrelson grimaced at the news reports coming from the tribunal of the four captured and medically restored terrorists. They were being plenty defiant, apparently in the hopes that they could intimidate Mendel into letting them go 'or bad things would happen, seriously bad things.' It was an admirable line of bullshit, Ed thought, but still bullshit in the end.

And Mendel wasn't buying this brand of bullshit. The reporters did get it right when they said that the Tribunal was simply a legal formality to an otherwise clear-cut case of terrorists about to be executed. Process is process, and the accused needed the right to defend themselves, for what it would be worth.

"I believe such an action would have been called a 'wet operation' in years past," Ed groused.

"Wet and incompetent," the USSA's foremost intelligence analyst replied fairly. "They managed to piss Mendel off pretty badly, and not much else."

"Well, there stands four condemned; may God have mercy on their souls because Mendel isn't going to," Ed noted.

"That's what it amounts to," Harvey Reese, the aforementioned Intel Analyst, replied. "Anyways, those five Star Colonels are going to hamburger those four BC pricks, so no sweat off my ballsack. Might be interesting to be there and see the end-game in person, no?"

Ed shook his head. "I've done my fair share of killing over the years, the less I see nowadays the better. So long as it is clean, I don't care how they do it."

"This is Mendel you're talking about," Rico noted as he approached the map table. "IF there is one thing they are really good at, it is killing whatever they want in a very swift fashion."

"Not the best of legacy to give to the world," the analyst said.

"It's a hell of a thing to boast about, as well, but they make do," Ed replied. "Remember, you have to be alive at the end of the day to make such a boast. Same thing can't be said for a good amount of their foes."

"Anyways, what is thy bidding, my master?" Rico asked in a falsetto that sounded somewhat familiar to Ed.

"I recognize that from somewhere, definitely an evil character whoever it was," the Analyst commented. "Real close, too."

"I called you here for a skull session," Ed replied curtly. "Party's over, we have work to do. Lots of it."

"Aye, sir," Rico replied. "So, what part of my brain do you want to borrow?"

"I need some opinions on how to spread out the Southern Cross unit to do the maximum good," Ed said. "Or why not to spread it out if you think no dice."

"Don't," Rico replied. "Why? Simple: the Southern Cross regiment is like the fist of a very angry God, and one we can use wherever, whenever we want. You keep it consolidated for now, you can give the EA a serious case of bleeding face wounds if they come back looking for more. I'd say break it down and use it for cadre once we have the forces to fill out several more regiments."

"Can I agree with him?" Harvey requested.

"Okay, solid reason. We'll keep the Southern Cross team here for now. That being said, we need defenses across a wide area as well as heavy hands to slap our foes down. I'm open to suggestions."

"Again, technically simple answer: we have to wait for the new recruits to train up and our industries to produce new machines for them to use. Thankfully, we took possession of all those facilities the EA was building to produce new machines, so we have ready mobile weapons factories. Won't be long before those machines are somewhat outdated though."

"Somewhat," Ed agreed. "The Strike Daggers were really scraping the bottom of the barrel, so I see us phasing them out over the long haul for more capable machines like the Duel Daggers and 105 Daggers."

"The 105 Daggers present an interesting option, or more appropriately a set of options," Harvey declared. "The Magi pride themselves on Omni technology, reconfigurable weapons loadouts for their battlemechs and aerofighters. The 105 Dagger one-ups the Magi on that scene: not only can the equipment be changed out to suit the mission, it can be changed or replaced on the fly with a Skygrasper. An Aerofighter has to land, hangar itself, and then take about ten minutes to reconfigure its weapons load."

"Interesting lesson," Ed noted. "That being said, we're going to do something similar with a series of conventional fighters, see if we can create our own pseudo-Omni strike fighters using our own technology. The treaty says we are allowed double the fighters per allotted point of mobile forces, and Mendel has already proved how deadly a fighter is in competent hands, so I don't see any reason why we can't follow suit."

"Ideas?" Rico asked, intrigued that his CO had just come up with such a plan.

"We start off basic, a conventional non-Omni fighter, built with our present industrial base but armed and armored by Mendel. We won't be able to afford something with energy weapons, at least not initially, so we keep it simple. Something capable of surviving common anti-aircraft fire, nothing exotic like a beam weapon, and capable of putting a hurt on ground and air units. Something that only costs about 4 million a fighter, and can be mass-produced quickly."

"You mean 4 million our money, or 4 million in Mendel?" Harvey asked.

"4 million our side, what would be 800,000 Mendel side. A small, low-tech fighter compared to Mendel's hulking Fireballs."

"That sounded very perverted, boss," Rico opined. "Still, that's a kickass idea. The Earth Alliance swamps the skies with Spearheads, we can do just as good ourselves."

"Better, actually, since one of the proposals I saw had four of the SRM 4-packs like the Southern Cross," the Intel Analyst noted.

Rico gagged at the thought. "Man, that thing could do more than just scratch Spearheads, you could use it for all manner of ground attacks as well. Bomb load?"

"Yes, but small one, seven tons external."

"Quick question: what do we use to pay for these things?" Rico asked.

"Same way we're paying for ZAFT materials and finished goods: food." Ed looked down at the map table for a moment, considering something. "Not enough," he grumbled.

"What?" Rico asked.

"Not enough, just not enough force to hold against any serious assault," Ed clarified. "We need something more if we want to keep the Earth Alliance out. Something...something that can hit multiple enemies multiple times..."

"Something like Delta Lead, the modified Gundam Mark II?" Harvey opined. "Those things are expensive, and few people can use 'em."

"Newtypes," Ed replied. "Or, in EA parlance, 'high spatial awareness' personnel. Mendel loves 'em, they have units that can deploy thirty, forty, more remote weapons. ZAFT made one, the Providence Gundam, but they still didn't get far against the Magi, just one MA kill. Can we do it?" Ed asked. "A few of those kind of troops and I can deny key invasion routes to all but the most hardened enemies. And I think we have some of those kinds of people, those that haven't fled to Mendel."

"We can, but to make a really powerful Newtype weapon we'd need a crapload of help from outside sources, Orb and Mendel for sure. Can we get it? And can we find reliable-enough pilots?"

"Orb, likely, they are coming over to consult with our MS factory engineers. Mendel, I don't know, but their help would be immensely useful. Maybe when their Galaxy Commander of Aerofighters comes by, I can talk to him about it. As to the pilots, I don't know, we have to find them first."

"He gonna be pissed off about us building a fighter?" the Intel Analyst asked.

Ed snorted loudly. "The way their fighters tore through whole teams of ZAFT MS? He might consider it amusing, but not likely threatening." He looked back down at the maps, but he wasn't seeing a map of the USSA, he was seeing a map of space in his mind. "They have the real problems. They have to defend a rather huge interest with only a handful of forces, what wouldn't even pass for a Regiment down here on the ground."

"Better them than us," Rico admitted his thought on the subject. "I don't think I could do it."

"They'll have to do it," Ed noted. "They're about to seriously piss off Blue Cosmos with this tribunal."

-x-x-x-

(20 December C.E. 71, 1800 Hours)  
(Residential Block 2, Mendel Colony)

The Tribunal had been swift and to the point; one whit had opined that the speed with which the Magi justice system moved finally put the 'speedy' in the old saw 'right to a speedy trial'. Even the most optimistic of the press had considered the conclusion a foregone matter; all four groups had been caught in one form of surveillance or another, including military boresight camera footage which was considered the most damning evidence under Magi law outside of certain special techniques available to the infamous but absent Mages.

The effort from the four accused was laudable, if only enough to make things worse for them. Magi law holds that there is no justification for the outright slaughter of civilians, which they plotted, attempted and after a fashion accomplished. Magi law also holds that any attempt at systematic socio-political justification of such actions is indicative of terrorism as opposed to serial murder or mass murder, and for time immemorial Magi have had to deal with terrorists. Therefore, their continued railing against the Magi for permitting 'genetic abominations' and their attempt to 'cleanse the world of the Magi's taint' only dug their graves that extra meter deeper in Magi parlance. Strictly speaking, it did not help that two of the Star Colonels on the far side of the bench from the captured were Eugenic by birth, with the mother of a third being Eugenic as well.

On 16 December, at 1745 hours, the verdict had been read by the senior Star Colonel, whose girlfriend had been the first to die at Jennie's Chicken in the downtown area. "Attention to orders!" the reading began as it always did. "This tribunal, by a judgment of five to zero, has found the evidence beyond parallel to the accusations. As visual record of the involved parties shows them in the process of committing the charged actions, there is henceforth no question as to their guilt. Therefore, under summary judgment, we find the accused four members guilty of quasi-religious terrorism and the linked crimes of multiple homicide against civilians, inciting panic by terrorism and attempted socio-political intimidation by terrorism. Two of said charges are term-of-bond offenses of no less than twenty years each, though this is overrode by the primary and secondary offenses being capital offenses and subject to execution. As is writ in Magi law, you have four days to request Refusal for your judgment, else on 20 December, no later than 1800 hours, you are to be executed for your crimes."

Today, on the day and hour of the execution, those days of attempted defiance, bluster and intimidation seemed as much a waste as anything else Daniel did. He tried, tried hard to kill as much of the administration as possible, but failed miserably. Nobody had answered the call to Refuse the judgment; the Earth Alliance had replied that they could not muster ample forces to Refuse their execution. He tried to intimidate the courts into releasing them, but failed miserably. The only thing he had done right in the past week was his final meal and request that he be executed by steel sword beheading. Nobody had chosen different, since they all knew that Mendel riflemen were excellent shots and that gave them no excuse to instantly kill these terrorists. At least with a beheading, one strike and it was over.

Flay Allster arrived early at the execution site, the better to get a good look at the site and see if there were any openings she could exploit to possibly get one or more free. Sadly, with the presence of a full Star of Marines in armor, there was no option she could exploit. She would bear witness to four heroes dying today. Others had come as well, some members of the family, some curious onlookers, some anti-BC adherents and some military personnel. By 1745, there was a significant crowd to view the macabre spectacle of a public execution. Even a few teens of the same age as Flay were present, and so far she could tell they thought this was a cool thing.

The convicted were led onto the raised platform at 1750. Flay knew that most modern societies had outlawed the practice of public executions, but this one was both public and would be readily available on the Mendel Information Network as a download. No inhibition, no fear from Mendel, just the final goodbye to four condemned. The four were brought somewhat forward on the platform and positioned about four meters apart, then knelt down onto the platform.

"As is custom, this is the final point in the process whereby their fate may be refused," an Armored Marine said. "If there is anyone in the crowd of the will and skill to stand for these dezgra dogs, you may speak up now."

_Damnit, there is nothing I can do_, Flay thought aloud. _I'm freaking five meters away from them and I can't do a damned thing_.

The silence from the crowd was almost deafening in and of itself. "Very well, if nobody shall stand in defiance of their fate, so shall it be administered. It is requested of the spectators that you remain silent during the proceedings."

A single lady marine stepped up onto the platform, in the standard Magi gray uniform but not in armor, and with only a single katana on her person. She was accompanied by a single male marine, though this one carried a spear and no other weapon. The marine with the pike moved behind and to the right of the first of the condemned; Daniel would be the last of the executed, if they were going right to left on the four. The lady Marine stepped forward and left of the first to be executed, then stopped and bowed to them. "Condemned, may Existence see to your souls as is proper. Your time on the mortal coil is done."

The lady hunkered down, her sword still in sheath but leveled to the ground, her hand poised just over the handle. The Marine with the pike leveled his weapon and neared it to the back right of the target's ribs. With a mere nod from the lady the guy moved the pike into the first criminal's ribs, which caused the target to arch his back against the pain as well as arch and extend his neck. At this point, the lady Marine struck, her sword lashing out faster than most people could see, the arc of the blade perfectly transiting his neck and severing it effortlessly. "Oh God, a Battokiri," one of the teens nearby Flay commented. "Iaijutsu, drawing and cutting in one swift action. That Marine knows how to handle the sword like a pro. She can kill someone faster than they would ever know it."

The first body had collapsed forward, now the 'stem' of a horrid flower of blood that was just beginning to drip over the front of the platform. A barrier prevented the civilians from getting close enough to touch it, and thankfully any blood spray from her lightning-fast slash went behind the platform which was also cleared. At least one of the Armored Marines was now covered in a fine spray of blood droplets from this first of four executions. Without word, she used a rag to clean her sword blade, then re-sheathed it without a sound except the click of the tsuba (hilt) against the end of the sheath.

The mechanical precision of the execution was itself an offense to Flay. The Marines involved were stone-faced, almost completely unemotional about killing four otherwise defenseless humans. The second execution followed the same pattern: a poke to the rear, followed by a lightning-fast slash to remove the head. Thankfully, the executed were both blindfolded and gagged to prevent any form of macabre sight at the stroke. Again the sword was cleaned with a new rag, the latter of which was dropped by the deceased body and the Marines moved onward to the next.

The third again followed in pattern of the first two: a poke to the back, a swift slice to remove the head. The Marine with the pike was now thoroughly drenched with blood for his efforts, and still hand one to go; Flay now knew why he was wearing safety glasses, any reasonable human would have expected the literal bloodbath. A third rag came from her belt to clean the sword, and a third rag hit the deck of the platform as she stepped across the body to get to Daniel.

"This is where it ends," the nearby teen said. "Bastards killed my mom and sister at the fast-food place downtown."

"I'm signing up after this," his girlfriend said. "I doubt I have the stuff to do combat arm, but I can run just about any piece of equipment you put in front of me. God knows they need the help."

"Let's go to the recruiting station together, then. Fuckers killed my family, I think I'll return the favor."

Flay watched on as the fourth execution took place, on the one of the four that she had met in the days prior to the abortive attack. The pike nudged forward, and Daniel arched in response, but of the four he tried shouting against his gag. It did not matter; the swing of the sword was as merciless as the Marine holding it. One slash, one deceased operator; his head somewhat remained in position for almost a full second, until it slowly listed to one side and collapsed down behind him. Of the four, his body was the only one to collapse backward instead of forward.

Unlike the other three, at this point the Marine came to attention and saluted with her sword. "It is done," she said simply.

"Seyla!" the Marines and shortly thereafter the whole crowd chanted in traditional response.

Contrary to their collective opinion, it was only beginning.

-x-x-x-

(20 December C.E. 71, 2100 Hours)  
(ZAFT military station Jachin Due, firing range 3)

Gilbert Durandal, now the chairman of ZAFT, was by law required to be present on any use of the death penalty in the PLANTs. It was extremely rare; ZAFT's requirements for such an execution were far more stringent than Magi requirements, but in this case the final result would be the same as the four terrorists executed earlier in the day partway around the orbital plane from the PLANTs.

Murutha Azraiel, the former commander of Blue Cosmos, would be executed by firing squad. Also unlike Mendel, this would not be a public spectacle as had the execution of those four captured terrorists. All who were present in his final moments were a handful of ZAFT officers, the riflemen chosen for the task and a few of the Supreme Council.

"I still think it's a hellish way to run a railroad, letting the execution be carried on international television," Louise Leitner, the Judicial Committee chairman, complained. "Makes for high ratings and bad image."

"I don't think they much cared what anyone else thought," Yuri Amalfi replied. "They wanted it done, they got it done. And, inasfar as anything the Magi do is fair, they played strictly by their rulebook."

"I don't want to sound like I pine for their deaths, mind," Louise backtracked. "The less Blue Cosmos dickheads in the world, the better. I just don't see this as being any form of good practice, making an execution such a public demonstration."

"Deterrence?" Yuri asked.

"Possibly," Gilbert Durandal replied. "It might not do much in the long run, but it may cause a little nagging fear in the backs of their minds if they know death or death are the only options for operating inside Mendel."

"Maybe," Louise conceded.

Murutha Azraiel was floated to the anchor-pole that had been secured in the center of the firing range, fifteen yards hence, for this purpose. When he arrived, the two orderlies hooked his leg shackles to the pole so he could not drift away. The orderlies retreated as the six riflemen stepped up to their booths and loaded magazines. Each had a single three-round burst to use, which combination of eighteen rounds meant that Azraiel would not survive today.

"Murutha Azraiel, for the use of nuclear warfare against civilians, your sentence shall be carried out momentarily. Before you go to stand before God, have you any last words for mortal ears?" Louise asks, trying to be civil about the matter.

"This is not over, the blue and pure world will be preserved even over my dead body. Do your worst, I'll have company in hell soon enough."

"Company in hell is already waiting for you, four of your subordinates took that trip in Mendel just a few hours ago," Louise practically spat at the bigot.

"Shooters, on the line," Yuri ordered, to which six bolts were drawn back and six bolts released to slam forward with a cartridge now in the chamber. "Take aim!" he ordered.

"FOR THE PRESERVAT—" Azraiel began the traditional shout, but was interrupted:

"FIRE!" Yuri shouted. The hall chattered and thundered to the echo of eighteen rounds loosed in less than a full second. "It is done," Yuri commented, then realized he had followed quote with the Mendel executioner.

"You know, I have been studying their unique terms, but I can't wrap my head around 'Seyla' as they use it."

"It's an honorific," Durandal replied to Louise. "An honored response to a particularly reverential or important statement. You see it more in ritual practice than you do in common practice, but it does show up from time to time." He smiled, a gesture unseen except by two of the riflemen as they cleared their weapons. "It is commonly referred to as analogous to the phrase 'damn straight'."

"Okay, that makes some sense," Louise replied.

"Now what?" Yuri asked as two orderlies came out to collect the rather mulched body of the former chief terrorist and begin cleaning up the blood floating in the air behind and around him.

"I have a press release to give, and as an agreement with one of my counterparts over in Mendel, I have been requested to, well, let's just say that the Magi want visual verification of his death."

-x-

One of the things Mendel did unbidden was facilitate civilian communications between various interested parties in space, effectively bypassing the radio-signal jam caused by the N-Jammers. This was mostly accomplished by way of laser-line communications transmitted by a series of small and easily manufactured communication relay satellites. The system was based on readily-available commercial technology, and was even open to the Earth Alliance for their communication needs, thus there was no signal encryption except that used by the individual parties. The Earth Alliance had already tapped the network in an attempt to gather important intel, but Mendel didn't do anything important by way of 'in the clear' signals. Thus, less than four hours apart, the Chairman of the Earth Alliance received visuals of first his nephew's execution, then the execution of an old friend, though word was still filtering through 'interested' parties even as Chairman Riseman heard it.

"Ah, Chairman Durandal, how goes it this fine evening?" Star Colonel Wilhelm asked as the video-link synchronized.

"I am finding day by day that the detail of Chairman is more and more than it appears on the outside," Gilbert replied. "Whatever opinion I held about Star Admiral Centara prior to this week has drastically changed since then."

"Interesting," the Star Colonel replied neutrally. "So, how may I be of assistance today?"

"Actually, it is to you that I offer," Gilbert began. "You did request when we last spoke that I provide video of Azraiel's execution, which seemed a strange request until this afternoon."

"Ah, the public execution of his subordinates I daresay."

"Not morbid fascination, as I was lead to believe, it is eyes-on confirmation of the kill, and a clear public warning of the price of such actions." Durandal replied.

"Aff, our early history is replete with stories of executions delivered on illusions, where the convicted party was long gone before the blade found the neck of his doppelganger or his spellcraft illusion. An average illusion can work on a handful of people, not a hundred and certainly not four hundred as turned out for this execution." He paused for a moment. "And, of course, the factor of pubic dissuasion on the matter."

"Ah, that makes sense," Durandal replied, not entirely believing his explanation nor entirely discounting it. "Anyways, your system should now have the video file, my side says it is uploaded."

"One moment," and Wilhelm looked over to his main video screen. "Computer, convert video file received on active telecom link and display on primary view."

Within moments, the system had converted the received file, re-saved it, and began the playback. It only lasted a few minutes, including the interesting conversations before and after the execution. When Wilhelm looked back, his face was serene. "I take it the file survived the trip?"

"Aff, it did. You have my thanks for this honor, Chairman."

"It is no concern," Gilbert replied. "How far will you be spreading it around?"

"Only to Century Commander Lightbringer from here. It is unlikely to leave the command structure, since it is not a Magi execution and technically is not subject to our laws."

"Excellent," Gilbert replied. "You will be coming over to the PLANTs before Christmas, if I remember correctly."

"Aff, I should be on station on the 23rd; I have been packing for it over the past week. I will be coming along with the first shipment of essential equipment."

Gil nodded. "The facilities are cleared and scrubbed down, so our end is ready to begin the build. How is your first gestations coming along?"

"First group is showing normal growth and advancement," Wilhelm replied. "Hibiki's equipment is mostly over-engineered for the purpose, which gives us a good margin of safety on the project."

"Excellent," Gil replied, meaning it. Chairman or not, his first love would always be genetics. "Unfortunately, I have a press statement to give, thus I must be off."

"Don't let the newsies gnaw off a leg, Chairman. Even a simple replacement has a waiting list over here."

Gil had a good chuckle. "Have a good evening, Star Colonel."

-x-

(21 December C.E. 71, 1100 Hours Lima (Orb), 20 December C.E. 71, 2200 Hours UTC)

For Patrick Zala, the day had started with a welcome greeting: dead Blue Cosmos at the hands of one of the other states. In this case, it was Mendel; though he particularly didn't like the foreigners, he did like their policies pertaining to terrorists. "Shoot 'em on sight, run the survivors through the meat grinder," he had stated as the unofficial Mendel position on dealing with Blue Cosmos. Thankfully, Mendel was living up to its own policies, a rare sight throughout history.

It was four hours later in the day when his vid-phone rang. "International call incoming from...Mendel Colony, B-2 Communication router, link number D-114-2072," the video-comm declared.

"Who the hell would be calling me from Mendel?" Patrick groused to himself, knowing that Athrun was still in town before his trip to the USSA. "Comm-link, accept call," he ordered.

The face on the far end of the line was someone he was not expecting to see, but was pleasantly surprised to hear from nonetheless. "Been a while, Patrick," Ezalia commented.

"Indeed it has," former Chairman Zala replied as he took a seat in front of the small vid-terminal. "I heard the government up there just did a little counter-wetwork."

"It was...interesting," Ezalia hedged. "I didn't go to see it, even though one of the companies they assaulted was my own."

"Nobody important injured? You?"

"No, we laid a helluva ambush for them when they came into the hangar. None of them survived." She deliberately did not mention that Gerald Lightbringer had been involved in the ambush as well. "They got a few of the Chairmen of the corp, one of the head engineers on the Trade Winds Dropship project and two security guards, but that's it."

"Could be better," Patrick groused. "Blue Cosmos must be desperate now that they just found out they don't have a free hand in Mendel."

"More than that, their options in ZAFT just went down the toilet. I have some interesting video for you."

"Oh?" Patrick half-grunted in response.

"Azraiel's execution was carried out three hours after the last four were dropped here in Mendel. I won't say much about that sorry bastard, but he did go out with dignity." If Ezalia could sound any colder, how was lost on Patrick.

"Small video file," Patrick replied.

"It was trimmed and compressed by Lightbringer before he forwarded it to me, I think, but it shows the critical part. Must have had some extraneous camera time in there before the execution." She was partially right, there had been some extraneous camera footage trimmed, but the conversations before and after were still mostly intact.

Patrick opened a second window to watch the file. It did not last long. "And I thought Yuri Amalfi would take an out when Durandal laid the new plan down."

"Apparently he decided he could do more good on the inside than outside. I asked Gerald if he knew why he remained, he said he didn't know."

"Unsurprising, the PLANTs are not going to be an easy place to run intel ops for Mendel," Patrick opined, basing his judgment on the fact that the Earth Alliance had had little success in that department due to the tightness of security in the PLANTs.

"I think so," Ezalia hedged. "So, how's things going down there?"

"Headless chicken races," Patrick replied, almost soured of the thought. "I'm not sure who's running the show up top, Cagalli or Rondo Sahaku, but things are getting going at a blistering pace in every direction except 'sane'. Hell, they're even talking about re-instituting their Star Ladder project this week."

That caused Ezalia to blink hard. "Are things really going that fast?"

"Are things going fast up there?" Patrick asked in reply.

"Well, sorta, but I think the Magi's default speed is fast," Ezalia commented. "They have so much going on at any given time, even the night-life in Mendel is fast-paced. And this Blue Cosmos incident just put a high-priority tag on our projects as well as caused a surge in recruiting."

"Yeah, there's some extra noise around here about joining up," Patrick replied.

"I should get some sleep, I have an early engineering meeting tomorrow for our Thunderball project," she said, not realizing that she had let fly with a name that Orb didn't know yet, and Patrick knew that Orb didn't know that one yet.

"Keep your head down, Ezalia, and keep at it. If I get any word on impending BC ops, I'll forward them to you to forward up the line."

"Likewise," she replied. "Talk to you later." the video link cut out.

Patrick didn't do anything for a few moments, just thought about what he had heard and seen. "Computer, repackage video file to standard format and save in convenient location."

"Completed," the computer replied. "File saved to directory documents/incoming/video."

"Comm panel command, place call to Rondo Mina Sahaku. Place call at intermediate priority."

It only took four seconds for the link to pop open with a picture of Rondo in her office. "Good morning, Mister Zala. How may I help you today?"

"Oh, quite the opposite today, Lady Sahaku," Patrick replied. "I picked up a couple interesting things from an old comrade now living in Mendel."

"Oh?" Rondo leaned in closer to the screen. "Do tell, please," she asked.

"Doubtless you have heard that Azraiel was executed about an hour ago in the PLANTs, no?" Patrick began.

"I have a press statement to that effect," she replied. "You have something more?"

"I have video of the execution, if you want a copy."

"I have no personal interest in such a morbid file, but my intelligence services would like to review it," she replied. "Can you upload, or should I send a courier?"

"I can upload now," Patrick replied, typing out the necessary command to send it. "It has been trimmed somewhere between the PLANTs and here, but there is some interesting conversation caught on the speaker between a few of ZAFT's council members. And, of course, the main course of this meal is the elimination of one hotheaded Blue Cosmos commander-in-chief."

"We will definitely review it. Does your source require any take for this hand-off?"

"If you have any word on pending Blue Cosmos operations, I would like to forward them to my source as a quid pro quo for more take," Patrick replied.

"Nothing that we are aware of at this time," Rondo declared. "When we do get word, however, if it isn't something we feed direct to Mendel, we will pass it along to you to back-channel in."

"Excellent," Patrick replied. He didn't particularly like helping Mendel, per se, but using them as a stalking horse to beat the shit out of Blue Cosmos was just fine in his book.

"I sense...something else," Lady Sahaku noted.

"Oh yes, an interesting name, one with a familiar ring to it," Patrick began. "Ever hear of something called a Thunderball?"

"Oh yes, it is a variant fighter of the Fireball that tore through the ZAFT and Earth Alliance forces at the Second of Jachin Due. I was going to ask if you wanted to help my team do an intelligence estimate on the design, since you have firsthand knowledge of the Fireball in action."

Patrick grimaced; if the Mendel pukes were developing a new variant of the Fireball, things could only get worse for ZAFT. "Where and when do you want me for the intel work?"

"Tomorrow, admin building front entrance, 7AM sharp. The lobby guards will be expecting you."

"I will be there."

-x-x-x-

(21 December C.E. 71, 0800 Hours UTC)

Chairman Riseman had just finished ripping Mendel a new political asshole in front of the world's media, up to and including the use of the word 'barbarian' four times in a five minute speech. In civil political discourse, nothing even remotely that strong was used even when chewing out another country. He hoped they got the message, but he wasn't holding his breath.

"Chairman, it is time for the special intelligence session," his secretary announced over the intercom.

"Send them in," Riseman replied.

The first through the door was a grim-faced Admiral Sutherland. The second through was the Director of Central Intelligence, also very grim of mien.

"All right, let's cut the preamble and get down to it," Riseman ordered. "The Senate is going to want to take action against Mendel, and I'll need to be ready to conduct that action as quickly as possible."

"Sir, I think this one will take a few minutes of your time," Admiral Sutherland replied calmly. "If what Director Cabot says is true, we have several very big problems to worry about, the Senate being the least of 'em."

Riseman grimaced at such a thought. "Okay, then, where do we begin?"

"The debris drop at the end of last month, the one that struck one of our bases and annihilated whole regiments of forces in South America."

"Wait, wasn't that a rogue _Drake_-class ship?"

"Mendel said it was, but the odds mitigate against it," Admiral Sutherland replied. "I cannot give you a hundred-percent answer on this one, but our tracking of the debris after the initial 'impact' that loosed the _Drake_ does not show a supermassive colony hull plate in the area at the time that could have dislodged the _Drake_."

"Okay, so then you are saying that Mendel fabricated a debris drop that looked like a natural event?" Riseman summarized.

"Again, I cannot give you a hundred-percent on it, but all evidence suggests that is what happened. They had a ship in the area, ostensibly to survey the debris for collection, which I might add they are doing even as we speak. The same ship involved in the survey and later the drop report they radioed us is now on the way back to Mendel, loaded full with scrap metal. It sounds real fishy, especially given our sensor take and records after the drop showing no catalyst hull plate to start the chain reaction."

"Should I push? Is there enough evidence to make a solid accusation?" Riseman replied.

"No, sir, and I can pretty much guarantee they will have highly doctored video footage to cover their asses if you did push," Director Cabot replied.

"Okay," Riseman said, even though it was not. The anger was visible in his demeanor. "They bombed us out of the USSA. Now what?"

"They cannot range to North America properly without making it obvious that is what they are doing, but they can range to us if they wanted. Anything from Tropic to Tropic is fair game for them, so I suggest we try to minimize forces in that area."

"Noted," Riseman replied immediately. "Cabot, you have been briefed in on their Strategic Psionic, right?"

"Yes, sir. Frightening capability."

"Find us someone who can do the same. Protect them from the hard-liners in Blue Cosmos. Get them trained up and ready to mind-rape unto them as they are assuredly mind-raping us."

"Not going to be easy, sir, on either point, but I have a team working on it as we speak. Thankfully, we have a huge population base to play with, compared to Mendel."

"Sutherland, put together a plan to assault Mendel directly, full naval, mobile forces, and nuclear release. If we have to, we will slag down their colony to prevent further undue interference in our internal affairs."

"Aye, sir," William Sutherland replied, though inwardly he knew it was a suicide operation.

"Also, plan a conventional-only operation in case we need to 'punish' Mendel for further actions outside their influence."

"Aye, sir, I already have a conventional-only plan on the table." _And it is also a suicide run, but I can't say that in this room and expect to walk away alive_.

"Very well, we may have to implement it. Also, while I have you two here, I want to make one thing clear: the Junk Guild had too much involvement in the war in the USSA, just as Mendel did. I think we need to deliver a stern warning to them just the same as we need to do so to Mendel. Do we have two mercenary Carrier formations in the area of the Gigafloat?"

"Yes, sir," Director Cabot also had intel on what formations had been released to mercenary duty to avoid the limits of the Junius Treaty. Mendel had stood down most of their forces, rather than turn them over to mercenary operations. "Two carriers, _Halsey_ and _Port Arthur_."

"Cut them a generous contract to assault and capture intact the Gigafloat. We need the launch capabilities more than the so-called 'neutral' nations need it, and they need to learn that involving themselves with the big boys entails taking the risks of big boys."

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

This is the measure of how close it is to the blatant end: I have less than one full month of action to be played out in this storyline, with a quick introspective after that and then the Legend of the Jokers Wild is closed. Of course, Sunrise made two mainline parts to the Gundam SEED, and you have seen a plethora of characters in action from Destiny, so you can rightly expect that the story will continue. And then further on, depending on the take of the second set.

On the meat-and-potatoes of this chapter, I say a quick burst of violence makes a nice system shock, but the major-scale battles and mobile warfare are far from through. I have at least two good mobile forces battles planned out for the last two chapters, one of them including old guests of this storyline: Gai Murakumo and Elijah Kiel. Mercenaries make the battle a bit interesting, since the wussy mercenaries don't last long in the business and they can end up fighting pretty desperately sometimes. For the side issues, particularly the continued salvaging and use of those resources, you can look forward to a TRO for the RE H.O.M.E., since it makes an interesting Un-Rep ship for the _Archangel_-class, and it may come into general use since it is very cheap by Magi standards with a larger haul capacity than a Guild II.

As to the tribunal and execution, see below in the Logic and Reason section. I will be up front and say this is the way the Magi do it, which is a byproduct of their semi-Clan origin. Let's just say that jail time is strictly and actively discouraged for miscreants, which cuts down on brig overcrowding.

The USSA presents an interesting challenge for me, to keep it both logical and from becoming munch. The results shown are random, per se: the dice did cough up facilities under construction for the production of new mobile suits in the USSA, doubtless taking advantage of their economic issues by providing jobs to those displaced by the EA occupation. When the EA was booted, those factories were not finished but close to it, and a little horsepower can give the EA a good starting point. As to how they are going to finance it, Mendel, Orb and ZAFT have offered the USSA some lines of credit to get back on their feet, payable by way of foodstuffs and low-end manufactured goods. Part of the under-the-table deals at the Junius Treaty between ZAFT and the USSA involved some land deals for terrestrial manufacturing facilities, and part of the deals between Mendel and USSA involved manpower for colony projects in the L4 area, so the USSA has some good economic prospects at the moment.

As to aerospace concerns, the USSA has everything they need from the word 'go', except for the advanced armor and weapon systems they want in bulk. The issue is simple: there are a lot of aerospace manufacturing and modification companies in South America, including one of the largest modification / overhaul companies in the world. Part of Mendel's payout to the USSA for continued food exports is the advanced weapons systems and armor necessary to build conventional fighter craft (non-space capable) that can give the EA a run for its money. In the next section, you will see the USSA come up with even more such craft, and more effective ones that have pathetically small price tags. For the record, the primary variant of the Fireball costs 26.7 million C-bills a craft, whereas the craft proposed in this chapter costs only 821,834 c-bills per copy. Granted, it has enough armor to withstand maybe three hits from anti-aircraft guns, and won't be able to withstand beam rifle hits, but used right it can play hell with mobile suits and fighters alike. And, as my beta-reader **Necroblade** pointed out, swamping the skies with low-cost, high-effective fighter craft is a very useful and technically simple tactic, when your enemy lacks the sophistication to definitively control the skies. And I haven't even gotten around to bombers, dedicated CAS aircraft, electronic warfare capabilities, dedicated ground-attack and tankbusters, midair refueling, and I certainly haven't touched Battletech VTOL technology. Stalking horses, stalking horses...

And that is pretty much all I have to say about this chapter. NEXT UP: The dogs that barked will bark again, but this time it isn't for show. A battle in the middle of nowhere between two distinct mercenary parties will bring their parent organizations to the brink of war once again...

INTERESTING NOTE 1: From time to time, I tend to wander around the TV Tropes website. No big surprise there, a site as insane as TV Tropes tends to draw a wide fanbase, and sometimes I get ideas from said site. While wandering, I decided to take a look at the Gundam SEED fanfic recommendations page, since they do have some of the best recommendations. I was significantly surprised to see mention of this story on a TV Tropes Wiki page. Much thanks to **Gatomon41** for the shout-out!

INTERESTING NOTE 2 / REMINDER: Back when I first began writing these things, I made it a policy that I would accept and heed fan commentary. More to the point, I also consider it fair game that ideas dropped in reviews can and will be used for story material. More or less, if you have the imagination to think it up, I should have the imagination to implement it if it is feasible and plausible. This came to a head in the side story Inferno in Chicago, where two of the characters in the story and their units were completely fan-made. All things considered, I never backed off that position; if you have some kickass input, I want to hear it, and I may use it! As of this chapter, **Alex Yamato** is the latest to come up with an OC and unit to add to the fray, and said unit showed up in a snippet in this chapter, so what are the rest of you waiting for? PM me if you have an idea!

* * *

Review Replies: Six reviews is as laudable a goal as I can rightly expect. Here stands my comment unto these four helpful readers:

**Deathzealot**: Murder on the MS and just about anything else they shoot at, but there isn't a lot of them around as was pointed out in this chapter. The USSA is in a very precarious position right now, they have their sovereignty back but little in the way to defend it with. It takes time to build an army, and they have to work hard on that...

I was using the Long Dagger, but the factories in SA are for Duel Daggers, and they will be showing up in other places due to trade arrangements...

**Rickrolled**: I hope this shows what kind of routine they tried with ample detail, and the cost of such failures in the lands held by the Magi.

Like the point you made about Gundam 00, but if it shows up in the Jokers Wild series, it will be a bit down the road.

**Necroblade**: Flay never had a chance to unbend from her extremist view in this line of events, but she will get her due wake-up call in the second set. Hope you'll be ready to beta that, because GSD is about to get worked over :)

Hope this was enough of a shock for your tastes :)

Well, the EA is not particularly on their own, per se. The bulk of the planet's surface is EA or neutral, and in all reality the factions aligned against the EA are comparatively small in all real terms. Mendel, after all, has a total population of 45,000 as of the end of this chapter, though a very hardened and elite populous at that. The Ea has more pull than readily appears at this time. You are right about Waltfeld's position, and you are starting to see some of that 'cornered wolf' mentality here, though disguised as old-world imperialism or power-playing.

On the point of space superiority and air superiority, you are extremely correct when you look at Mendel's willingness to follow in old Magi doctrine of fire support, particularly orbital fire missions. The preconditions that ZAFT and Orb might be drawn into battle, however, are a bit thin; if it remains Mendel versus EA and nothing actively draws ZAFT in, things might go very bad for Mendel just on numbers alone.

As to the Clyne Faction, for now they have folded into the background, watching and waiting for anything they need to correct. They are paying a particularly keen eye to Mendel, since they still consider Mendel to be the most dangerous faction in space, but they will quickly learn that things are not all peachy in the older states just the same...

**Nightblader1021**: Erm, strictly speaking, listing all the Gundams, Mobile Suits, Mobile Armors, Battlemechs, Omnimechs, and Aerofighters in use by the Magi would take a whole chapter in and of itself, especially if I explained why they use such a broad array of units. The mix makes logistics a right pain for the forces involved, but the varied capabilities makes it impossible for an enemy force to counter it with just a single-array capability.

**Jade (ANON review)**: Thank you, and I hope this chapter is to your liking.

**Knives91**: I vote the tacos, the end of the world can't be nigh since Mary McFly visited the future well past us. Hope this chapter is up to your expectations, amigo :)

* * *

The Gripe Sheet: No gripes, **Necroblade** seems to have captured the one major logic error in the past two chapters.

* * *

Footnotes:

(1): **Shoot-Ex** means **Shoot** **Ex**ercise, or in common parlance Live Fire Exercise. That a Blue Cosmos insurgent is calling an attack like this an exercise is a showing of how badly they are underestimating the opposition. Don't expect follow-on teams to make the same mistake twice, though.

* * *

Logic And Reason: This tribunal is now in session.

Excerpt from the Remembrance of the Magi, Book 4, Chapter 2:

"_The courts of the Empire, forever perverted by the Divinities  
Thus dethroned from their usurpation, are now rebuilt upon traditional values;  
New standards of process, in following with the new concepts of Trial,  
__Shall be implemented and shall henceforth stand;  
The Arbiters of Justice shall once again guard the Magi  
From all depredations within and without_."

The Divine Wars created a serious problem for the Magi, above and beyond the total invasion and veritable perversion of the Empire by the Greek Gods. One of the first systems thus infected was the Magi's court systems. Far from efficient to begin with, the court systems were further corrupted by the Judges being removed and executed almost to a man, who were then replaced by Priests of the various Gods. These priests were far less concerned about justice than they were with religious purity and monopoly; the first and loudest judicial action taken after the purges was to effectively ban all religions other than those of the Greek Gods. The weight of the law enforcement system, used in such a capacity, spelled the death of many smaller organized religions and severely crippled all the major organizations.

The return of the Emperor at the end of the Divine Wars was not a return to status quo; with the coming of the Clans along with Emperor Atrebas, the political and social grounds changed drastically. This also meant the court system once again echoed the changes felt by the government, though this change was not completely in line with the Clans. Because the Magi, even after being depopulated 10 percent by the Gods, still outnumbered the Clans by a factor of 3000, the environs had to retain old Magi values as well as the new Clan systems and policies.

Herein stands a brief listing of the codicil of laws and chain of resolution that all Magi follow.

CHARTER OF THE EMPIRE / AMENDMENTS OF THE CHARTER / CODICIL OF THE EMPIRE:

The original Charter of the Empire and amendments have never been overridden, even by more recent changes in the Empire and by membership in the Star League. When drafted during the Second Magi Revolution, the soon-to-be Emperor knew what people expected and what they wanted, as opposed to what was just and honorable. He made clear the fact that justice and honor would be preserved at an Empire-wide level, regardless of what happened in a geographic area or on a planetary scale. As such, basic rights of the citizens are enumerated and locked, unable to be altered even by majority vote; they can be modified in small areas by unanimous vote, but cannot be wiped out across the Empire.

The Amendments focused on outstanding issues of their time, and corrected issues outstanding that were skirted or dodged by the original Charter. The one amendment typically referenced during court cases is Amendment 221-A, basically a requirement of burden of proof for any issue before the court. To prevent abuse of the court system in arbitration of conflict on scant evidence, the Emperor made sure that a party bringing accusation have ample evidence to prove 'beyond parallel to accusation' their position and the injustice caused by the actions necessitating the trial. 221-B further extends the burden of proof to include civil disputes (lawsuits and such) where a party would be unable to have a court rule favorably in criminal proceedings but could easily persuade a court in civil liabilities. 221-C was an addendum to the court proceedings that came of age after the Clan integration, where some courts were arbitrating Trials of Possession that had been refused by the defendant. The 221-C addendum made it illegal for the courts to rule on a Trial of Possession that was denied by one or more parties, as the Trial would then be considered Null since one side of the combat was an unwilling participant. This is just a small sampling of the amendments; more will be enumerated as their core issue is called.

The Codicil of the Empire is the direct result of the Clan Integration that followed the Divine War. With new policies and methods, the Clans threatened to radically alter the structure of the Empire, and focus too much authority among the warriors and not among the citizens as a whole. Thus, the Emperor built the Codicil to integrate the major policies of the Clans to the Empire while protecting the existing rights of the citizens. Such a compromise infuriated many of the Clanners coming into the Empire, but most were reasonable about their expectations and all obeyed the results of the Trial of Refusal that they lost to the Emperor. The major point of the Codicil is simple: no party will be denied the rites of Trial by Combat in any fashion, though the use of Trial by Combat may not be used to deprive other persons of their just rights.

The Seven Rites of Combat will be covered under a different briefing, but bear in mind that Trial by Combat is an integral part of the justice system and cannot be denied to any person within the Magi's borders, friend or foe, with rare exception.

COMMON LAW:

Where the Charter and Codicil are concerned with the major issues of government structure and guaranteed / reserved rights, the bulk of the actual authority in society rests with the civilians. As such, the necessity of laws is expected throughout the Empire, though most of the laws are enacted at a planetary level; comparatively few laws exist at the Empire level, except those regulations relating to the military or interplanetary and interdimensional travel and commerce. This was structured deliberately to prevent the legal excesses and abuses of the Imperial Senate prior to the Second Magi Revolution, where whole planets were targeted with asinine regulations and taxes as a punishment for speaking out against the Senate. As such, if an empire-wide law or regulation is to be enacted, that law or regulation is to be voted on by every voting person in the Empire. Such drastic changes are few and far between for just such a reason. Due to the vagaries of interdimensional communication, such sweeping changes in law can often take a year to vote, enact, and distribute.

Most laws are written and enforced at the planetary level, and are approved by vote of the populous of the affected region. As such, with most regulations you can reasonably expect that one part of a planet has the same rules as another. Enforcement for planet-wide laws usually falls to the Planetary Garrison, normally a line military unit assigned to the planet as a permanent station with engineering and military police assets. Some laws and regulations are enacted at the Prefecture (state) level, usually restricted to one geographic area on a planet or one colony in orbit of a planet. Typically, building codes, right-of-way regulations, mining and foresting regulations, wildlife preserves, and farm apportionment are handled at the Prefecture level, and are overseen by the prefecture militia forces. Ordinances, road speed limits, curfews (if any), and zoning restrictions are enacted at a city or township level, and concern only that township. Enforcement for township regulations is normally carried out by the Prefecture militia (who live among the civilians) but in the cases of larger cities this duty increasingly falls on mercenary law enforcement units.

Due to the massively decentralized nature of the legal system, education requirements for law are generally only valid on any given planet, though were a legal scholar to move to another planet he or she could recertify with only a general amount of courses to ensure competency in the new planetary regulations. For civilians and tourists, a simple legal reader is available for borrow at any library that can give a 1-for-1 comparison between their home planet and their present location.

Due to a regulation clearly written into the Charter of the Empire, it is a requirement that all laws be written in clearly-understandable English or Japanese, thereby preventing the use of a mostly-dead language (Latin) or ambiguous phrasing to confuse adherents. As such, it is considered that there is no excuse for breaking the law since theoretically anyone in the Empire can read and interpret the laws.

RESPONSE AND TRIAL FOR COMMON / FELONIOUS INFRACTIONS:

In cases where someone is dumb enough to break laws in the lands of the Magi, they can expect a swift response to their actions. Military Police units are commonly equipped with VTOL units for transportation and second-line Battle Armor or first-line Infantry Armor units for high-risk situations; a common criminal has little to no hope of overpowering or escaping the long arm of the law. Exceptional criminals have from time to time managed to overpower the Military Police formations, though this is at best a temporary escape for them; as the whole military is charged with the enforcement of the laws of the land, once the MPs and Prefecture Militia are knocked out, the next in line is the Planetary Garrison. Most Planetary Garrison Galaxies or Provisional Garrison Clusters are heavy in Armored Infantry and Mobile Army forces, making even terrorism operations a dicey proposal when the Garrison becomes involved.

Assuming that the criminal in question does not go down fighting (or survives the inevitable firefight), they have a court appearance to look forward to, with housing in a brig until they go before the courts. Trials take no more than a week to begin, though on occasion this can be delayed by request from both prosecution and defense. Court proceedings follow a simple process: statement of intent, prosecuting case, defense case, closing statements, and deliberation. Once Judgment is delivered, it is legally binding and the person is either publicly exonerated or quietly rotated into his sentence. (Note that this is an inversion of common practice in most free-media societies, which will be better explained below).

The use of a jury is not common under Magi law. Most court proceedings are presided over by a tribunal of no less than one or more than nine appropriately-trained and certified military officers. The minimum rank for this detail is Star Captain, though these positions are rare and usually only preside over local ordinance cases. Star Colonels make up the bulk of the tribunal personnel, with some high-value cases being presided over by Galaxy Commanders, Century Commanders, and in very rare cases a Legion Commander. The final appeals process is handled by Division Commanders, though these cases are extremely rare, amounting to an average of one appeal case every 200 years of cases not handed at lower levels.

Understand clearly: the Magi court system and laws do not presume guilt at any time, as a presumption in such matters creates bias. Instead, the onus of responsibility is on both parties during the trial, for the defense they must prove innocence or disprove the prosecution (or both), for the challenger to prove responsibility or guilt 'beyond parallel to accusation' made. In cases where neither side can claim a decisive victory, two retrials maximum are allowed, with a maximum 1 standard month gap between trials; if a hang trial occurs three times, the case is dismissed and all records of the proceedings are expunged, though it may be re-instituted only if the prosecution has found sufficient new evidence in the interim to warrant a retrial.

Usually, if someone is generally innocent of a given action, there is ample proof of their innocence by way of video record or equipment logs that disprove their involvement in any given matter. In extreme cases where a lack of evidence exists to defend themselves, a challenger has the right to call a Temporal Challenge, which requires a trained Time Mage to look backwards through time to the event and prove or disprove the event's facts and presentations in court. Temporal Challenge is a rare skill, and very rarely invoked due to the hundred-percent nature of the Challenge: if a Time Mage determines that the Prosecution has presented the right facts and named the right suspects, that is almost always the end for the defendant. If the result comes back negative, usually the Temporal Mage is capable of identifying the real culprit and the prosecution starts over with a new target. No crime has gone unsolved when a Temporal Mage or Strategic Psionic is involved.

THE WAGES OF THE CONDEMNED: punishments large and small

On the event that a miscreant is convicted of his actions, said miscreant has one of four modes of punishment to look forward to: fines, property seizure, Term of Bond, or in cases of severe crimes, execution. In terms of punishments, the Magi believe foremost in directly repaying your debt to the wronged party; in most cases, repaying such a debt is ample reform to prevent a repeat occurrence.

Fines are the bread-and-butter punishment of low-order infractions, such as ordinance regulations or speed limits, actions that pose a minor hazard to the community and are usually more of a nuisance than actually harmful to the rest of the community. A typical speeding ticket will cost a speeder 20 C-bills plus one C-bill per kilometer over the limit (equivalent to 62 dollars American plus 3 dollars per kilometer over). As court time is considered part of the rote duty of the presiding officers, there are no court fees for citations. In most cases of fines and such, they can be paid off early (before going to Trial) with a 20 percent discount and a stern warning from the magistrate not to do it again.

Seizure of property is more rare by far among the Magi, mainly due to the guarantee of property rights as listed in the Charter of the Empire. The bulk of the use of this method is in commercial venture, where a company goes bankrupt and cannot pay its final debts off, a seizure of assets will be used to compensate the creditors. This seizure goes only as far as the named party; the employees of the company cannot have their rightful assets seized as part of a company's failing, just as one example. In some very rare cases, and only by agreement of both parties involved, a seizure of property will be used in lieu of a private Term of Bond (typically seen between corporations or well-to-do civilians).

Term of Bond is the Magi catchall for crimes that are too severe to warrant fines or seizure, but not severe enough to warrant execution. In some very rare cases, a term of bond in excess of 150 years will be used in lieu of an execution, when the courts believe the person can best compense society by performing tasks at the behest of society for a very long time instead of departing the mortal coil. When assigned to a Term of Bond, the prisoner will work for 0.10 c-bills an hour for a set amount of time a day, though not to exceed 6 hours a day to allow him or her a normal job, until their sentence is executed. For infractions against the Empire or a planet/prefecture/township, these tasks are usually municipal cleanup, maintenance, and construction tasks; it is not uncommon to see Bondsmen pouring new concrete sidewalks alongside professional contractors or engineers. For crimes against a distinct entity, such as a business or person, the Term of Bond is usually at the behest of that entity, and usually involves similar menial labor (a Bondsman to a bank might be ordered to clean the bathrooms and sweep the lobbies of its branch offices, or a bondsman to a civilian might be ordered to mow lawns in the neighborhood and do landscaping tasks).

Term of Bond can be commuted to brig sentence at the behest of the Bondsmen, though this comes with a very steep penalty: if a term of bond of 1 year was requested to be commuted, that jail sentence would be tripled to three years. This is done to severely discourage the use of jail time as an escape from paying back those you wronged, though some people would rather spend the three years instead of one year of scrubbing toilets.

The final and penultimate punishment for serious crimes against the Empire or its people is public execution. An execution is usually only invoked for two reasons: severe crimes against person or state, or for full-time criminals, ergo persons whose only actions in society are to attack society. Professional Criminals are not tolerated among the Magi, and those who are unwilling to take a deportation are executed. Few such criminals choose the firing squad over a change of nation, so this is very rare, and such persons are given every reasonable opportunity to mend their ways before this final drastic step.

For those who commit murder (driving drunk and killing someone in a car wreck counts as murder among the Magi), rape, treason, terrorism, espionage against the Empire, or who unduly interfere in or sabotage military operations can expect a swift end. Certain lesser crimes when applied on a very large scale also qualify for execution, though such crimes must have caused net physical harm to others (ergo, a person would not be executed for scamming 10,000 persons out of a couple hundred C-bills each, though would be working long and hard to repay it). Additionally, linked crimes and indirect crimes are considered execution offenses if they meet the other prerequisites for such a response. For example, if a drug dealer sold brown acid to a teenager and the acid killed him, the drug dealer would be charged with drug dealing (twenty years term of bond) and indirect murder (execution).

In following with Clan policy, once a person has served their sentence, their reentry into normal society is not barred or impinged. The fact that someone has served a Term of Bond or had fines or seizures is not considered public record and is expressly forbidden from being used in determining employment eligibility. However, past crimes are considered during court proceedings, provided they hold relevance to the standing accusation. Additionally, the press is allowed only limited reporting on Trial proceedings, and in no fashion may conduct 'trial by media' for any incident to prevent tainting the process or the accused. Such attempts have resulted in severe consequences to the press, and is generally one reason why the media is disfavored by the Magi.

This concludes this Tribunal. Summary Judgment will be read at 1800 hours.

* * *

TRO Section: Today I cover the unsung helper of the Three Ships, the Cornelius-class ship, known affectionately as the RE H.O.M.E..

**AeroTech 2 Vessel Technical Readout**

*** CUSTOM WEAPONS**

**Class/Model/Name**: Cornelius-class (RE H.O.M.E.)

**Tech**: Mixed Tech

**Vessel Type**: Monitor (JumpShip Transportable)

**Rules**: Level 3, Standard design

**Rules Set**: AeroTech2

**Mass**: 200,000 tons

**Hull**: Morgenroete AC-2C

**Length**: 300 meters

**Power Plant**: Morgenroete CV-01A Standard (C)

**Safe Thrust**: 4

**Maximum Thrust**: 6

**Armor Type**: (Standard hull plating) Standard

**Armament**:

2 Morgenroete Lohengrin Mini(C)*

**Manufacturer**: Morgenroete Naval Division

**Location**: Heliopolis

**Communications System**: Morgenroete CC-6

**Targeting & Tracking System**: Morgenroete CT-6

* * *

==Overview:==

When the Archangel-class ships were commissioned, a second class of ships was drafted with the intention of running supplies for the larger brethren. This second class would serve as mobile UnRep ships, and while as wide as the Archangel would not be as large in any other notable dimension. This would allow the smaller classification of ships to be manufactured in greater quantity to better supply the planned multiple ships of the new classification.

The Cornelius-class ship, metering only 200,000 tons displacement, is the designation of this mobile transport. The only surviving ship of the line, designated RE H.O.M.E., serves the Junk Guild and not the Earth Alliance or Orb.

==Capabilities:==

The main attribute of the Cornelius is its cargo area. At full load, the Cornelius can transport 80,600 tons of material, roughly ample to UnRep and refuel three Archangel-class ships in one run. In every other fashion, the Cornelius is designed specifically to operate only as a cargo transport.

The ship's engines are rather average, effectively better than the Marseille III class ships in use by the Earth Alliance but comparable to most other civilian ships. This is a reflection of the ship's intended purpose, since it is not a combat ship it does not require high-speed maneuvering capabilities. The one major plus of this design feature is the relative ease of maintenance and repair of the engine systems: because the systems are mostly off-the-shelf engines, repairs can be easily accomplished at any colony dockyard or space station. It also reduces the fuel expenditure comparable to the larger Archangel-class ships, which uses about 50 percent more fuel for given thrust expectations.

Armaments on the ship are limited, again due to the intended purpose of hauling cargo and not doing battle. The only integral weapons of the ship are a pair of miniature Lohengrin positron cannons, which, though useful against other ships, have practically no utility against mobile forces. The existing Cornelius-class ship has two Mobile Suits on board, a Works GINN and one of the Gundam Astray prototypes, which gives the ship limited defensive capabilities against other mobile forces. The armor on the ship is sufficient to withstand a minor amount of abuse from standard-scale weapons, but is incapable of going toe-to-toe with even the most rudimentary warships.

Much like the Archangel, the Cornelius makes extensive use of automation and requires comparatively little crew. In practice, a crew of six is ample for the day-to-day operation of the ship, given that this is a Junk Guild ship repairs are handled swiftly and expertly. Most of the manual operations of the ship are handled by automated systems in lieu of actual crew, and the systems are tied into an 'artificial' intelligence entity in the ship's CIC. This comparatively low amount of dedicated crew amenities allows for lavish quarters for each of the crew, easily equivalent to a Captain's stateroom on most warships. This capability is needed, as the Cornelius is commonly used for long-haul transports as much as it is used for anything else.

==Battle History:==

The only existing Cornelius has not been involved in more than a handful of battles, and most of those as a bystander to the combat action. On those few occasions where it was directly involved in combat, the only actions it has taken are purely defensive, using a set of makeshift physical shields to block attacks directed at the ship.

==Variants:==

The existing Cornelius-class ship is a variant of the original design specifications, though to what amount of variance is unknown. Original specifications have not been released for the class, thus the only known records of this ship exist in the form of the modified unit serving in the Junk Guild.

==Notable Vessels & Crews:==

RE H.O.M.E. (Captain: The Professor)

The original ship of the line, the RE H.O.M.E. was rescued from the ruins of Heliopolis following the omnidestructive assault on the colony by ZAFT. It traded hands among junk dealers for some months, until Liam was ordered by The Professor to find a replacement ship for their unit of the Junk Guild. With the original H.O.M.E. in a crater on the planet's surface, the RE H.O.M.E. proved to be two things: a perfect replacement and a significant upgrade from the old ship. It would continue to serve the Junk Guild for many years to come.

==Deployment==

This ship is usually only seen alone, though in some cases it works alongside other Junk Guild units on cooperative projects. It has only once been known to serve in it is original capacity as a UnRep ship for the Archangel, and has never been seen in use by the Earth Alliance.

* * *

**Class/Model/Name**: Cornelius RE H.O.M.E.

**Mass**: 200,000 tons

**Equipment**: (Mass)

**Power Plant, Drive & Control**: (48,000.00)**  
Safe Thrust**: 4**  
Maximum Thrust**: 6

**Structural Integrity**: 80 (36,000.00)

**Total Heat Sinks**: 500 Double (146.00)

**Towing Adapter**: (100.00)

**Fuel & Fuel Pumps**: (4,062.00)

**Bridge, Controls, Radar, Computer & Attitude Thrusters**: (500.00)

**Fire Control Computers**: (0.00)

**Food & Water**: 190 days supply (100.00)

**Armor Type**: Clan Standard (270 total armor pts) (316.50)

**Capital Scale Armor Pts  
Location**:**  
Fore**: 45  
**Fore-Left/Right**: 45/45**  
Aft-Left/Right**: 45/45  
**Aft**: 45

**Cargo**:  
Bay 1: Fighters (6) with 2 doors (900.00)  
Bay 2: Small Craft (2) with 2 doors (400.00)  
Bay 3: Cargo (1) with 2 doors (80,600.00)

**DropShip Capacity**: 4 Docking Hardpoints (4,000.00)

**Grav Decks #1 - 3**: (100-meter diameter) (300.00)

**Life Boats**: 18 (7 tons each) (126.00)

**Crew and Passengers**:  
6 Officers (60.00)  
2 Gunners (14.00)  
75 Automated Systems (375.00)  
22 Bay Personnel

**Weapons and Equipment**  
1 Lohengrin Mini(C)* Nose, 500ht, 10,000.00 mass  
1 Lohengrin Mini(C)* Nose, 500ht, 10,000.00 mass  
1 Lot Spare Parts (2.00%) (4,000.00)

**TOTALS**:

**Heat**: 1,000**  
Mass**: 199,999.50  
**Tons Left**: 0.50

**Calculated Factors**:

**Total Cost**: 241,748,656 C-Bills

**Battle Value**: 11,975

**Cost per BV**: 20,187.78

**Weapon Value**: 7,586 (Ratio = .63)

**Damage Factors**: SRV = 667; MRV = 667; LRV = 467; ERV = 148

**Maintenance**: Maintenance Point Value (MPV) = 331,144 (222,822 Structure, 101,250 Life Support, 7,072 Weapons)

—Support Points (SP) = 344,718 (104% of MPV)

**SPECIAL RULES FOR LOHENGRIN MINI**: This weapon follows all rules for the standard Lohengrin weapon, except that a single shot generates 500 heat and causes 40 points of capital-scale damage. Reference Archangel TRO for further details.


	19. Third Strike, Third Out!

(Jokers Wild, Set 1, Chapter 19: A Third Strike for A Third Out)

* * *

CHAPTER FOREWORD:

Any departures from the norm for Gundam SEED / Gundam SEED Destiny are deliberate on my part and done with both due cause and due ass-ripping from my beta reader. Further explanation will be given in the author's chapter afterword (chapter notes).

* * *

(21 December CE 71, 1400 hours UTC)  
(Office of the Chief Representative, Emirate of Orb Administration Building)

"Chief Representative, the party for the 1400 hours engineering briefing is here," her secretary informed the room after the intercom buzzed.

"I would like you two to remain, please," Lady Cagalli told Athrun and Rondo Mina Sahaku. "Send them in," Cagalli requested over the intercom, while massaging her head against the combination of stress and headache.

The door swung open, and immediately Cagalli groaned. "What's that about, ma'am?" the lead of the three asked.

"LNC Engineering, I should have realized from the start," Cagalli grumped. "Labatt, Nien and Caldwell. Well, at least you're not getting shot at any more."

"Why thank you, Milady Athha," Mayura replied.

"Oh sweet Haumea, you're even starting to sound Magi," Rondo Mina Sahaku said, clearly shocked.

"Well, I do get along with my boyfriend," Mayura replied. "Which fact made the proposal we have possible. Without some help from him, and a few of his technician buddies, this would have died a month ago," and she passed out folders to all three of the room occupants. Juri and Asagi already had their own.

Athrun was the first to break the seal on the folder and look at the concept art. "Oh holy crap, you went ahead and engineered a Dropship? How?" The ship in question was somewhat different from the Magi _Guild II_ ships and the dimensions were way smaller.

"It wasn't easy, but we sort-of copied the _Guild II_ structural arrangement and scaled it down to 1/25th size." Juri commented. "We also pulled everything not germane to flying cargo, and I mean everything such as the lavish arsenal, the fighter and small craft bays, most the crew and passenger accoutrements, everything not involved in flight or cargo hauling."

"The whole thing is bare-bones, no frills, and won't win a speed race with the _Guild II_ ships, mainly because the engines on the _Guild II_ are four times larger than this ship entirely. On the other hand, I think I can build these here in Orb at a cost of 310 million Earth Dollars per ship, or less than 60 million C-bills," Mayura made her pitch.

"Four thousand tons gross mass when loaded, three thousand of those tons being cargo load," Rondo Sahaku declared while speed-reading through the accompanying paperwork and TRO. "That's a 3 to 1 cargo ratio, better than even the stripped-down _Guild II_, which chimes in at 7 to 3 cargo to ship." The difference was literally five percent, but when hauling bulk freight five percent made a huge difference in net profit per run.

"Fuel bunker?" Cagalli asked.

"Hundred tons standard, can be expanded by borrowing cargo space using fuel bladders. Burn rate is slightly under four tons per day at full load," Juri replied.

"Again, far more efficient than the _Guild II_ ships," Rondo noted. "What do you intend on doing about the engine?"

"That's the real fun part," Asagi noted. "After we got to really looking at the engines, we found the only part we can't build is the interplanetary engine fusion chambers. The bulk of the engine, the thrust vectoring conduits and such, the magnetic thrust vectoring controls they use, all of that is no more complex than the barrel assemblies on the M1A Astray sniper beam rifles. Quite a bit larger, but the same principles."

"That's...wow," Cagalli gaped. "Seriously that simple?"

"Seriously," Juri replied evenly. "I was just as shocked. The bulk of the engine is just an immense cooling jacket and thrust vectoring pipes for the vented fusion leftovers. We do the same thing for the barrels of our beam rifles, nothing stopping us from doing the same here."

"Except for the fusion chamber itself," Athrun commented. "Mendel can't sell or give those away, it's in the Junius Treaty."

"We checked, Dropship engines, especially civilian-grade Dropship engines, have never fallen under the heading of 'military hardware' by the most liberal definition of the phrase," Mayura replied. "The Century Commander even said outright to my boyfriend that the Dropship engines are the most wildly inefficient engines still in use by the Magi, but are kept in place because of their simplicity and reliability. An Antimatter drive would be fifty times more effective for their purposes, but we all know what happens to Antimatter when it gets loose..."

"That, and they really can't dampen enough of the inertia from such an engine to make it survivable for the crew of the ship," Athrun commented. "Their amazing Gravitic Lattice system only goes so far before even it can't do the job."

"True, sir," Asagi replied. "Still, by the wording of the treaty, Capital-grade engines are not restricted. Otherwise they could not make Jumpships legally under the treaty — each of those has to have a rather large fusion reactor for powering onboard systems and sometimes to charge the jump core, after all."

"A point," Rondo noted. "Can you get some engines past Mendel's watchdogs, or is this something we need to negotiate for?"

"We have a possible pipe for the engines waiting for us right now, a manufacturing firm that is making engines for other civilian Dropships and small craft. All we need to do is get the structural end set up and file the paperwork through Mendel. Since LNC Engineering is officially a resident of Mendel, getting that permission should not be a huge problem, since they'll probably purchase for themselves or sell to the Junk Guild just as readily."

"This is a good way to clear up a headache," Cagalli noted. "Something effective getting done. Now, which of you three do I talk to about an order for these Dropships?"

"Actually, you may want to talk to Dearka Elsman about that, we shanghaied him into doing our purchasing and accounting," Juri admitted.

"You didn't get Clotho out of Magi service?" Cagalli asked, stunned at the thought.

"Certainly not, ma'am," Mayura replied. "He's flying three times a week, having the highest time of his life while getting his butt kicked royally by the Century Commander. I couldn't pry him loose with a crowbar, but him working on the _Dominion_ has some advantages..."

Cagalli sighed deeply when she realized that not all intelligence wars were won by the pros. Amateurs, like the three Astray pilots sitting in front of her, were both wildly unpredictable and less suspect than the professionals. And they just managed a coup de main of no small proportion.

-x-x-x-

(21 December CE 71, 1600 hours UTC)  
(Mendel Administration Building, Mendel Colony)

While a purist would say these matters take time when indoctrinating abtahka, the four standing in front of Gerald Lightbringer were only somewhat abtahka, per se, and these four showed no real need for extended conditioning. All four had even placed at veteran rating, no doubt due to the fact that they would have been elite or ace among their homeland's respective armies. Most importantly of all though never to be discussed, Calamira had confirmed that none of the four were plants from their home nations; these were die-hard converts, not spies.

The first in line was Cole James, a former ZAFT MS pilot. Physically not very significant, even to the point of being less so than the Century Commander, his arsenal was all inside his head. There were pilots in the Magi armed forces that had the ability to use more and more powerful remote weapons than Gerald, and it followed that pilots existed capable of such on this world. It also followed that some of those pilots found themselves in the services of one of the major powers. Cole James was one such pilot, and though easily capable of manhandling anyone with the right arsenal, he had been relegated to a GINN High Maneuver (due to lack of better machines) and had done battle against an Eurasian hotshot driving a 105 Dagger with Gunbarrel Striker pack. Both were promptly shot down by Diamond Element. No fault of his, as the story went; his whole unit had been subject to a veritable Macross Missile Massacre, a cute alliteration for several hundred micromissiles deciding twelve Mobile Suits needed to die. Needless to say, the missiles won.

No good story simply ends with the ignoble defeat of such an ace and Cole James was no exception. His machine drifted to a point where he could see first the battle between the _Archangel_'s contingent and the USSA 'shangai' brigade, including the fight between the blood-red Sword Calamity and the Freedom. This was his first evidence that something wasn't right: a Gundam hijacked and now being used against a force hijacked to attack the PLANTs. With some more drifting and creative use of his four working thrusters, Cole was witness to first the launch of the Earth Alliance missiles, then the intercepting of one by anti-aircraft fire and the block of the second by the _Mjolnr_. His second evidence that something was wrong: the forces crushing ZAFT like eggs in front of a steamroller took the time to intercept two stray nuclear devices, one of which by way of parking a Warship in front of the missile and taking the hit on the chin. Further drift took Cole's beat-up GINN to the site of the battle between Creuset and Angel Team. Unlike the others around the battlefield, Cole could hear the conversation between the two aces of the respective forces, and was rightly disgusted by the banter. Third evidence that something was wrong: Creuset's continual railing that he had passed judgment on humanity as unworthy was evidence enough that he was playing both sides for the annihilation of all. The anguished shout from Gerald, heard by everyone still living on the battlefield, was the final straw for Cole: someone that actually cared existed in the universe.

Getting into Magi society was easy enough for all four of the new inductees. Three had been captured during the battle of Jachin Due, the fourth bummed a ride on one of the first Dropships into Orb. They all went through the same briefing, heard the same words (all from Commander Ward, oddly enough), and came to the same conclusions: freaking crazy. It didn't take them long to decide that their talents would best serve the crazy-but-correct Magi in a combat fashion, and within weeks all four had signed up.

The second in line was the real odd duck of the four. Vhen Ra, formerly of Oceania, was a fighter pilot that had come to Mendel for the sheer challenge of flying Mendel's aerofighters; specifically the flying tank known as the Fireball. Vhen served in the Oceania Air Force and had distinguished himself stellar in combat against the hot-dropped Earth Alliance forces of Operation 8.8, where he used his grossly outdated Spearhead to down three enemy Strike Daggers. Strictly speaking, it wasn't the best record, but that he had even one kill with a craft so pathetic was worthy of note. When the Magi first lashed out against the nuclear omnicide threatening to overtake the world, when the first video of their Fireball and Sabutai Omnifighters came to the media outlets, Vhen knew he was looking at the wave of the future: air power that was not rendered helpless by the all-powerful Mobile Suit. Combined with Mendel's inherent Warship strength, Vhen deduced that Mendel was now the force to beat, and more importantly the force that believed in true combined arms and mostly true honor of conduct. The kowtowing of Oceania to ZAFT and their elitism had disgusted Vhen to no end; he would have traded face punches with some of the arrogant ZAFT MS pilots, but he knew it was a losing proposition for a Natural fighter pilot. Out in Mendel, Coordinator or not did not matter, only that you could do as needed when needed. Thus Vhen jumped on the second Dropship out of Orb and never looked back.

Much like Cole James, the third had also been captured during Jachin Due. Emily Reache, formerly of the Earth Alliance, had jumped at the chance to get away from the depredations of the Earth Alliance. Not that she didn't like the Earth Alliance, given her homeland would always be (in her heart, at least) California. She signed up when it looked like ZAFT was in a position to overrun the Earth Alliance, and had tested into the fledgling MS program when the Duel Dagger had first rolled out. She specifically did not sign up to nuke the PLANTs, which any science major could tell was a very bad thing, since a PLANT that landed on earth would cause a nuclear winter. She also didn't sign up for the passes the walking dicks in her unit took at her; being one of the ten percent female population in the Earth Alliance military, she was considered a 'hot commodity' by the 'men' in the unit. A few times this had to be solved in a physically insistent way, up to and including a stabbing on a Midshipman with a flat-blade screwdriver, which resulted in her being court-martialed and confined to the brig at the time of Jachin Due. She had been broken out of the brig of her derelict ship by Marines, and the midshipman had been conveniently ignored by the Marines when it came to busting him out, so that was one less pervert in Existence and she wasn't losing sleep over it. Once taken prisoner, she decided that submitting to the Magi 'Term of Bond' might be a good way to get a look at them; it took no more than a week for her to realize that the Magi armed forces was a better career than the omnicidal assholes she had signed on with.

The fourth of the group was the only one not involved in the mobile forces directly. Another Earth Alliance capture, and a conversion from Blue Cosmos, Daniel Inneis decided early on that the Marines that had spared him a pair of 10-gauge shotgun shells were something worth looking at. Like Emily, he chose the path of the Bondsmen, only rather than thinking he could worm his way in as a spy, he figured (correctly) that he could gain rank and rating in Mendel that would have been denied him in the Earth Alliance. For him, it was three weeks of using a blowtorch to chop up salvage and wrestling with the Technicians during off-shifts that settled the matter. Somehow there existed a military force that you didn't have to kiss major portions of ass to advance in, you just needed to be better at the job than the rest of the trial takers. Though a Natural by bloodheritage, Daniel still managed to test in after getting the crap kicked out of him by the (abbreviated) Mendel training program.

And that left only the official indoctrination.

"Per orders from the Star Admiral, we are cutting out the usual process of the blooding ceremony due to outstanding issues with the Earth Alliance, and we really do not want them to know that we're bringing online a trickle of elite or ace personnel. As such, it be just myself and the unit commanders you will be assigned to." The door to Gerald's office popped open, and four sets of feet were heard to enter.

"Largely, the four of you walked in ready to do the job to which you trained. No complaints here," Gerald admitted. "The Magi have a very long tradition of bringing in outsiders with new skillsets or new takes on old favorites. The earliest records of such habits predate the Empire entirely, back in the days of the first revolution. The Emperor-to-be knew he didn't know enough, and what he didn't know others filled in the gaps. Such a combination has evolved the position the Empire now stands in: skilled in all arts we must be, and then a few more." There was a grim chuckle from two of the officers behind them, but the four inductees remained silent.

"Each of you four represents the same position: skilled of your own right, and capable to the detail to which you have tested. Each of you has completed the first step to advancement among the Magi: success in the primary Trial of Position to which you were challenged. I'm supposed to run a long spiel about the Trial of Position here, but I think the short version is best suited to this quasi-ceremony. A Trial of Position is the ultimate in dead-wood removal tool: if you could not hack it, you would not have passed the Trial; I specifically made sure that 'faking it to make it' wasn't an option in any of your cases. You passed worse-than-real-combat challenges, which means you beat out ninety percent of the Earth Alliance forces, seventy percent of ZAFT forces' expectations, and are matched to or better than half of Orb's forces at a minimum."

Gerald handed each of the four a small jeweler's box. "Within these boxes are your Point Commander's insignia. Each of you has placed as Veteran or better in your specialty, and because we have no cause to withhold rank or placement, you four are to be assigned immediately to units. Therefore, you may now apply your insignia and stand to for placement."

The four personnel each withdrew their pins and attached them to collars as was appropriate. The single silver bar of the Point Commander was just one step on their path, and Gerald was sure that path would be long and hard for all four of them.

"Cole James, as you have placed Elite as a Gundam Pilot – Newtype Weapons Specialist, we have determined that there really is only one posting appropriate your tactical skills at this time. You have been assigned to the warship _Dominion_, whereupon you will take possession of the Gundam Providence I took as Isorla and had rebuilt. As of 1800 hours today, I hereby transfer the Providence from my personal collection to the administrative command _Dominion_, at which time you will take effective ownership of said Gundam." Cole James simply nodded, still standing at attention.

"Vhen Ra, as you have placed Elite as an Aerofighter Pilot, there are four choices of duty station for you. In reality they are all line traps; I can readily assign you to Queen, Jack, King, or Ace element, three of which being Cluster formations, or I can have you administratively assigned to the _Mjolnr_ for the purposes of special unit testing and evaluation. Strictly speaking, I cannot promise you action in either unit, but the likelihood that you will have to do some 'field testing' is very high in the Special Unit Operations Groups. In the line units, combat is only an option if a certain government comes looking for a fight."

The message was clear enough, and in line with Vhen's goals. He wanted to further demonstrate the sheer power of the Magi Aerofighters, and he had to be in a position of combat to do that. "I request the right to serve in the Special Unit Operations Group, sir," Vhen replied evenly.

"Granted," Gerald replied. "Next, Emily Reache," and for her he had to consult a paper with some writing on it that wasn't even Japanese. "Well, short answer here, it doesn't matter where I assign you; all the Mobile Suit forces are being decommissioned in favor of the Gundams and Aerofighters for the time being. Certainly no insult on the MS pilots, it is simply the nature of the restrictions placed on us by the Junius Treaty. The MS forces will be recommissioned in due time, but between now and then the machines are disabled and the pilots are in sims five times a week." When he looked to her from the paper, she looked somewhat dejected. "However, I have an interesting detail I think you might fit into that also keeps you out of a line unit and essentially in a Mobile Suit. It is another Special Operations Group, but this one geared to evaluating Mobile Suit units purchased in or recommissioned from salvage. The team consists of four Regular pilots, four Veterans, two elites, and two aces. How would you like to join up as a veteran?"

"Sir, I accept, sir," she replied immediately.

"Very well, you are now assigned directly to the _Mjolnr_ and your base unit is the Gundam GP-00 Blossom, though don't expect to have much flight time on the Blossom since you will be working mostly with other units. And that leaves only Daniel Inneis," Gerald began.

"Sir," Daniel replied.

"Well, in your case, I have a genuine problem. You passed your battery with little fuss, just a slight drop in effectiveness when you get close, but with very high marks on special weapons and equipment. Your Earth Alliance MOS was Sapper, no?"

"Sir, yes sir," Daniel replied.

"I can work with that, but keep in mind that some commanders are rather anal about acknowledgments. You four really need to get into the habit of using 'Aff' or 'Aye' as you primary response. Personally, I don't really care one way or the other, but most commanders do have an opinion. Back on subject, the major problem with the way you tested out comes down to a lack of armor after the lead is finished flying. You had to borrow one of the ship-board Marine's armor to do the job, and unfortunately I cannot dislodge that Marine from his armor since he is under a somewhat separate command structure. That being said, your combination of placement ratings and prior MOS opens up a possible for you that I need right the hell now. Anyone ever explain to you the difference between Marine Assault Armor and Battle Armor?"

"S—Neg, sir," Daniel answered immediately.

"The Marine or Infantry Armor systems are form-fitted to a soldier, and can be refitted with a little work if the pilot expands or contracts in places. Battle Armor is, for the most part, one size fits all. The major catch is that Battle Armor is a lot less advanced than the Infantry armor of any of the six Star Empires, but is still widely used because it is relatively inexpensive and easy to manufacture." Gerald knew, somewhere in Existence, a Hell's Horses Scientist Caste team was rolling over in their graves because he called the process of manufacturing BA 'easy'. "Ton for ton, a Battle Armor trooper is not as effective in direct combat as the Marines, but the Battle Armor systems have some interesting features that we could really never translate to the Infantry Armor properly. One of those features is an old Magi mainstay: the ability to deploy land mine fields by way of an old Capellan device called the Mine Dispenser Canister. Never could get it to work right with the Infantry armor, the jump jet system on IA would interfere with the canisters. Thus, we still have Battle Armor in special support units on front-line actions, and we have Battle Armor in second-line garrison actions for direct combat."

"And you want me there, Century Commander?"

"In a word, aff," Gerald said deadpan. "This next repeat of the great race wars of Existence is going to come down to force of numbers versus how can we counter those numbers. If we went strictly with Marine Armor systems, we might be able to produce and train a short Trinary on nanomachine production only. There is no way in hell we can produce a machining process necessary to properly fit armor to the troopers and do it before the next outbreak of hostilities. Therefore we have to go with the process we can readily do, which means the lower-level Battle Armor. Since the BA systems are usually rolled, stamped and pressed, a sizable machining firm can turn out two or three Battle Armor systems in a day once the pressure is on. Just for shits and grins, Battle Armor systems are just as capable of ripping apart a Mobile Suit by hand as an Armored Marine is."

"I am in, sir. Where do you want me?"

"For now, here. I have four point formations of Battle Armor, different types, in storage on the _Mjolnr_. They will be transferred here by tomorrow, and I am going to work out an arrangement by which you will have a team to test these out, figure out what Mendel can do different or better in producing them. When battle comes, you will probably be guaranteed a position on the front lines."

The room was silent for a minute, except for the sound of the room next door and what sounded of Japanese pop music.

"Questions?" Gerald asked. After ten seconds, he was convinced there were none. "One last thing before I loose you to your new commanding officers. Inevitably we will be back at war with the Earth Alliance, whether declared or not does not matter. When we dropped in, we pissed on their parade something fierce, and, understandably, they are right mad about it. Institutional arrogance and all that. Enjoy these days of peace, for tomorrow may not be so peaceful."

-x-x-x-

(23 December CE 71, 1400 hours UTC)  
(New Spaceport Location, Jakarta, Equatorial Union)

"This may be the best Christmas gift the South Pacific has ever received," the former (and soon to be reinstated) nuclear engineer noted.

"I don't particularly agree with ZAFT's use of the N-Jammer," the Mendel Fusion Engineer said with a low growl to voice. "They may have been trying to prevent further nuclear incidents, but they completely farked a planet in the process. No sweat off their ballsack, of course, they're just preventing further loss of life." Which efforts _had resulted in_ further loss of life due to a massive energy crisis on Terra, but in the supreme council chambers of ZAFT such figures counted for little.

"Of course," the engineer agreed. _What the hell is the government's problem with Mendel? These guys are on the level_, the nuke engineer thought but did not say. For some reason unbeknownst to most of the Equatorial Union, the bulk of the government above desk clerk had a seriously foul attitude about Mendel, and lacked any proper explanation as to why.

"Anyway, since these things have zero reliance on neutrons for continued reaction, you could park a warship-grade N-Jammer right next to the reactor vessel and it'll keep running," the Fusion Engineer noted as a Cargomech began settling the first of five ICF reactor vessels on the ground near where they would be put to use.

The task was simplicity itself. The original reactors at the Jakarta Industrial Power Facility had already been decommissioned and removed, since it appeared that there was no fix for the N-Jammer crippling the nuclear reactions at the time they had been removed. As such, the power plant had space for six reactors and nothing to put there; the use of wood-fire boilers had taken up one of the old reactor points, but that was a far pale from the nuclear power now denied to them. The agreements that Mendel had entered into to provide Inertial Containment Fusion systems to all parties – hardly a huge price to pay for the L4 colonies – was the answer: power on a massive scale, just what the Equatorial Union needed.

Five prefabricated reactor systems were now coming off one of their massive _Guild II_ Dropship for installation at an otherwise useless facility. "What are you using to force the temporary reaction?" the former nuclear engineer asked.

"The tritium is super-compacted by a series of four massively-scaled-down Ion blasters. Somewhat similar to PPCs, somewhat similar to an Ion Cannon, but very efficient at causing the energy-on-target reaction needed for ICF. Yield should be 5000-to-1 on this setup."

"Serious? Your bosses aren't afraid someone would disassemble a reactor and clone the Ion blasters?"

"Be my guest," the Mendel engineer replied. "Hell, I'll even help you pull it out. If you can make it work without access to Zero-G processed composites, one of which is Mithiril, I'll eat my hard hat."

"Ouch," the Equatorial nuke engineer replied. "Tritium?" his inquiry was directed at the supply of the necessary fuel.

"One month supply on the Dropship for all five reactors, regular delivery service once a month of a month and a half supply until you have a nine-month backlog, after which we drop back to one month supplies," the Mendel Engineer replied. "Nine months stock-on-hand should be enough to weather any delays in delivery, until we can sort out the miscreants and resume transport."

"How are you planning to...?" he asked, but stymied.

"Our material reprocessors are extremely effective. Tritium is extracted from the salvage we pick up, from water we transport, and I heard something about setting up tritium-breeding reactor operations involving fusion engines and deuterium heavy water. They say, with the right engine configurations, they can produce a gram of pure tritium an hour out of an old 125XL engine, more off larger engines, and the fusion plants that run the colonies can produce it in the kilos. I'd love to get in on that market, but..." he shrugged.

"You're down here, assembling the engines that will use that tritium, no?" the Equatorial engineer replied.

"Yeah," the Mendel engineer replied. "Gotta be somewhere."

The technicians assigned to the project began directing the cargomechs to place the new reactor housings. The evolution of parking the new equipment took ten minutes, a lot slower than the usual cargo dump-'n'-run for these pilots, but a necessary length of time. Each reactor represented not just a piece of operation-critical hardware but also several hundred hours of nanomachining, a process not to be wasted. Explaining extraneous damage or misalignment on one of the production units would have been a difficult thing to justify to the Star Admiral...

Setting the five housings on the ground was only the beginning of the work. Each machine needed power cables for the systems; despite the fact that they theoretically generated power, they could not power their own systems. Each reactor needed an intake of water and an exhaust of superheated water. And the necessary control systems uplinks would be required to actually control the firing and reloading of the ICF chamber.

As the technicians and assistant technicians began setting up the connections for the reactors, the Equatorial engineer noticed his Mendel counterpart humming something. It continued even as the first pipes were connected for the water/steam exchanger, enough so that his curiosity was triggered. "That doesn't sound like the typical fare from your homeland," the Equatorial engineer noted.

" 'Tis not," the Mendel engineer replied. "Vocaloid music, song's name is Roshin Yuukai – Meltdown. I can listen to metal, but I don't particularly like it."

"Whatever my government's problem with Mendel is, it's probably not accurate."

"Never expect a government to act with logic, and that includes Mendel," the Mendel Fusion Engineer pronounced with the finality of a death sentence. "Now, all we need is to get a proper starport built here and we can get more reactor facilities in place for you guys."

-x-x-x-

(23 December CE 71, 1800 hours UTC)  
((nationalized) NDIA Industrial Complex, Bogota, Colombia, USSA)

"This isn't bad, really," Ed Harrelson commented dryly. He meant the exact opposite, and everyone knew he meant the opposite.

"A third of this factory got it. Large truck bomb," the security chief for the project noted unnecessarily.

"Dump truck?" Ed asked, looking over the remaining frame of the vehicle.

"Yeah, full load-bed of An-Fo explosives." An-Fo was a wildly simple explosive: ammonia, diesel fuel (or something similar, in this case benzene), and fertilizer. It could be mixed in large batches and was made from commercially available ingredients, making it a very popular mining blasting agent as well as a hellish improvised explosive filler. "Frag from the load-bed carried as far as the city, where it took out a guy mowing his lawn."

"Casualties?" Ed asked.

"Well, the building and a lot of the gear inside, nineteen killed, thirty wounded including the poor sod mowing his lawn, and four missing, presumed dead."

Ed nodded solemnly. "Do we have an ID on the driver?"

"DNA tests will have to confirm it, but what our cameras got was this guy," and the security chief handed over a picture of the guy hanging out of his dump-truck talking to a guard. His had been disguised as a truck coming in with more fill dirt for the construction on base, not an impossible ruse. "Martynas Berkas, 41, Blue Cosmos, diagnosed inoperable lung cancer with a toe-tag six months into a future he cut short for himself. Probably decided he wanted to go out with a bang."

"He certainly accomplished that," Ed looked at the speaker, a teen wearing goggles and normally found riding a dirtbike, though was not doing so now.

"Ah, Ricardo," he remembered from the days of the rebellion, one of the many inter-unit message couriers. Their ranks had never been harassed by the Earth Alliance, mainly because they also delivered mail for civilians and the Earth Alliance themselves. "Still delivering mail?"

"Major Harrelson," and he gave a proper though rather old-style bow. "I was looking for a job assembling Mobile Suits, but..."

"Yeah, they just blew apart the one functional area of the factory," Ed groused. "I never accused Blue Cosmos of being stupid, and I'm not going to start today."

"No hope here?" Ricardo asked.

"Unless the team from Orb can pull off a miracle, not any time soon," Ed replied.

"Driver knew his shit, tossed a satchel charge up in the load bed with a ten-second fuse, while driving it into the factory structure."

"Ouch," Ricardo replied. "Anything I can help with?"

Ed looked the diminutive mail carrier up and down. "Head into town, find a roach-coach or a few, and bring 'em back here. We'll need to feed a small army for a while."

"Roger that, be right back," the courier saluted and was on his way to his dirtbike before anything else was said.

"Where's the team from Orb at right now?" Ed asked.

"Helping sort through the debris," the security chief replied. "We asked the chief rep to bring his machine in to help, since our forces are on perimeter detail right now."

Ed did not make the common aspersion of closing barn doors after the horses were loosed, mainly because military operations really did work like that: hit them once to distract them, then slam them from another direction. "That should be him now," Ed noted as the sound of flight-capable engines approached.

"Wait, is that Justice? Gundam Justice?" the Security Chief asked. "He never said—"

"Athrun Zala," Ed Harrelson commented. "Despite his loss at the hands of Century Commander Lightbringer, he probably is the best close-quarters Gundam pilot out there."

"I dunno, Lightbringer is kinda frightening, and so's those wackos he keeps around, the ones with the nuclear deployment Gundams. Hell, he may have a good size nuke on his own machine, it's the same base type." Both watched as the Justice landed and began assisting the cranes in removing the large structural members of the partially-collapsed building.

"Nah, they don't use those nukes on civilians, just on military targets. And they don't consider a factory to be a military target, it's industrial."

"That's a helluva lot of firepower for military targets," the security chief groused.

"There's no kill like overkill, and Mendel loves their overkill," Ed replied.

The security chief didn't hear Ed's pontification. "Oh, Major, did you bring your Raider Full Spec with?"

"No, why?" Ed asked, looking in the direction that he was looking. "Oh, shit, that's not one of ours!"

"Alarm! Alarm! Enemy flying MS from the west!" the radios they both wore screeched. It was a warning a little too late: the enemy had opened fire before the direction was noted, and the perimeter guard on the west side would be little to no threat to a competent Raider pilot.

On the other hand, there was little hope for him when facing a certain crimson gundam...

Much as Ed expected, by the time he arrived in the command bunker the west-side perimeter guards were down, with two pilots confirmed dead and one bailout. The enemy was technically already inside the perimeter, but there was something else to worry about instead of tearing the rest of the facilities up. "This is not good! That thing can tear us apart!"

"It won't last long," Ed declared with the finality of a death sentence.

"What?"

"The Raider Full Spec has a completely ballistic and missile arsenal. The Justice is armored in Phase Shift armor and has a fission reactor with N-Jammer canceler. It is impossible for the Raider to overpower the Justice, meaning it is only a matter of time before the attacker loses." Ed picked up the radio microphone and set the radio to the preprogrammed MS frequency. "Justice, this is Major Harrelson, do you read me?"

"Go," the Justice pilot replied in a clipped fashion. The base security monitors showed he was now taking fire, but not much in the way of effective fire.

"Can you draw the Raider toward the north perimeter where the other MS can assist you?"

The answer was a long second in the coming. "I think I can scare him off right now if you can cut two of the North border machines loose to harass him."

"Roger that. North guard, move two MS to assist the Justice."

The battle between aerial MS and Gundam began in earnest, a pair of the massive King Cobra missiles launched from the Raider Full Spec struck the Justice hard in the shield and shoulder, enough impact to knock it backward into the rubble they were trying to clear. Athrun was far from caught unawares, and with a simple thrust of his major jets was righted and avoided causing extra damage to the factory. "The debris teams are out of the way, Justice engaging now," Athrun declared on the site radio channel.

The subflight lifter detached from Justice and streaked upwards, nearly ballistic in its arc, though Ed could sense it was more distraction than attack. The enemy took the bait, aiming one of his machine guns up toward it and practically ignoring the actual Gundam. Athrun made the enemy pay for his oversight by driving forward and right with the Justice, a move which divided the enemy's attention and his reaction. Rather than try to engage both, the pilot of the Raider Full Spec panicked and bolted north, trying to clear away from the two contacts he was now faced with.

His attempted regroup cost the rogue pilot dearly. The bolt north went between two tall buildings and out into a cleared area north of the factory facility, which was also where the two Strike Daggers were responding from. One of the pilots was caught off-guard, but the other reacted before the Raider could capitalize. One shot, two shots, followed by two beams from the Sub-flight lifter and the machine slammed into the ground, then skidded for nearly a hundred meters.

"He'll self-destruct, get back from the Gundam!" Athrun half-shouted on the MS command frequency. Both pilots knew better than to question the judgment of an ace like Athrun Zala and both did as ordered immediately. Curiously, it did not detonate. "Okay, it should have blown by now..."

"No self-destruct charge in it?"

"Maybe we damaged the detonator," Athrun mused. "I'll check, if it blows my Gundam should survive," he noted with a hint of trepidation to voice.

"If it blows and you're nearby, Lady Cagalli is going to have my hide for a decoration in her stateroom," Ed Harrelson replied blandly. "Let one of us handle it, amigo. You're the guest here."

"Yeah, I'm the guest with the only Phase-shift armored machine on base," Athrun replied as the Justice closed up on the downed Raider Full Spec.

"Hey, if I may ask, doesn't it seem strange that we got a freaking Raider Full Spec in just seconds after it shot its way into the base?" one of the pilots asked.

"Hell no," Athrun replied immediately. "Gerald Lightbringer used that trick on Kira and myself back when we were training with the Magi forces — hell, he even used it on Cagalli a few times. Shove the enemy in one direction, away from their 'strong' side and right into the crosshairs of your allies. Nothing particularly special about it."

Athrun's Gundam edged closer to the enemy machine, careful to always be braced so that if it did blow he would have the most armor in front of the cockpit and nuclear engine. When he finally closed up to touching distance, Athrun drove the shield under the prone Raider and flipped it face up to inspect the cockpit area. "That's answer enough," one of the Strike Dagger pilots commented. "Looks like I got 'em in the cockpit."

"That you did," Athrun replied evenly. What would be left of the pilot in such a case could be collected in a matchbox, given the energy output of even the Earth Alliance's crude stopgap beam rifles. "Major Harrelson, looks like your country is enriched to the tune of one Raider Full Spec. I don't recognize the markings, so you may want to get an intelligence team in here to go over it."

"Already on the way," Ed replied.

"Well, between this thing and the truck bomb, your factory has seen better days," Athrun commented as he panned his cameras over the base facility. "It's not beyond hope, though. I think we can get you guys online here in a few."

-x-x-x-

(24 December CE 71, 0600 hours UTC)  
(ZAFT military station Jachin Due)

"I don't get it, sir. The Monitor construction I can fathom, we build 'em, we learn how they're built, we profit. May take a while, but we profit. This shipyard and Jumpship project, what does that get us? Besides a lot of wasted time, effort, and a very big target for the EA to shoot at, that is."

"You just hit one nail on the head," Yzak replied calmly, though inside he was getting frustrated on having to repeat himself time and time again. "The more we do, the more notional allies we have, the bigger the target. The bigger the target, the less inclined they are willing to try."

" 'They' refers to who?" the engineer replied.

"In this case, the Earth Alliance," Yzak replied. "I won't bullshit you, I don't particularly trust Mendel but at the same time I do believe they are acting rational within a certain, oh, call it a 'rulebook' for their intentions. They have some strict guides, some loose guides, but once you get past those few limits all that remains is wide open territory."

"How does that apply to this?"

"Simple. They will do what they can to achieve their objectives," Yzak said quietly. "They have to play by their rules, but anything else is fair game. They have no real reason to do battle with ZAFT, since we aren't doing anything really atrocious by their standards, so they should leave us alone or help us. Earth Alliance is another story; if they don't rein in Blue Cosmos, it's going to get very exciting in what remains of their lives before Mendel cuts their lives short."

"Okay, you're not the first person to say that, but it still doesn't help understand what this is for," the engineer replied.

"They're giving us a way out of the continual threat of annihilation while they build a way to return home," Yzak broke down the intentions to their simplest form. "I think it's a fair tradeoff, don't you?"

"What about the Earth Alliance? They'll act like spoiled brats if Mendel doesn't appease them somehow."

"Supposedly, the EA is on the hook for the bulk of the low-level and mid-level labor for this project: welders, equipment operators, zero-G techs, such. Mendel provides the expertise and some high-level force, we provide some of the mid-level work and most of the high-level muscle along with Orb. Or, at least in theory that is how it is supposed to work."

"And that's the rub," the engineer noted. "Who's going to cooperate?"

"If it's just us, Orb, and Mendel, screw the Earth Alliance. We'll replace them with a couple of the neutral parties if they don't want to cooperate. Call it a default on contract obligations. Anyway, the Chairman says we get to it, so why are we arguing this?"

"I dunno, hoping you had a logical answer to why we're grinding gears on this," the Engineer replied. "Anyways, Mendel's engineers are top-notch and I'm obligated to give them credit for it. The design they have for the shipyard is costly as hell, but most of it is prefabricated construction. We build it in chunks, tow it to the build site, and assemble it there."

"Like how costly?" Yzak asked.

"Oh, let's just say that between you and I, assuming we were pulling equivalent Mendel wages, would take over two million years to pay it off, assuming zero percent interest on the loan."

"Sweet Jesus," Yzak grumped. "What's the dollar figure?"

"86 billion C-bills, but this is the kind of facility that you buy once and just maintain it for the next ten thousand years; that's no joke, my Mendel counterpart is planning on 10,000 years for maintenance and upkeep. Call it 450 billion Earth Dollars. Thankfully, most of the big-ticket items, such as factory blocks and the actual shipyard bays, are all being fabricated by Mendel using a hybrid of zero-g extrusion and nanomachining. That will reduce time, material, and labor costs exponentially on the fabrication side, but assembling the bitch is still going to be a problem."

"Did they ever have a shipyard that lasted ten thousand years?" Yzak asked nobody in particular.

"I asked; the answer is most assuredly 'yes' according to them. The main shipyard that built the _Sendai_-class monitors was over 12,000 years old when the _Mjolnr_ jumped bad and landed here, and that's just one example among many. Their oldest shipyard is the Hessian Light Shipping Dockyard around Tranquil in their primary dimension, with a date of commissioning that makes it 14,883 years old as of the day the _Mjolnr_ disappeared. Lovingly maintained, as they say. We build it right, they will come, and it should last us at least that long."

"Okay, Chairman Durandal says we're go, so what do you need from the military?"

"Manpower," the engineer immediately replied. "And, if you can spare 'em, I need Mobile Suits to help maneuver and hold materials as we weld them together. I can do a lot with Works GINNs but I don't have nearly as many as I need, much less as many as I want. Tactical GINNs, CGUE, GuAIZ, all just as good for the same purpose."

Yzak considered what he had available and how to employ it. Phone calls would be a requirement, since his own command was a bit nebulous, but he figured he could get the people in place. "We can do the mobile forces, but how are we going to do the towing? Last I checked, none of our ships are rated for towing anything more than a couple thousand tons each."

"The Junk Guild has tow capacity, and one of the new monitor designs coming out of Mendel to be manufactured here has a dedicated towing variant."

Yzak ticks off some points on his fingers. "Okay, that's construction, manpower, and transport. What about materials?"

"We're getting some online from Mendel, but we need more. The bulk of that will have to wait until they open up asteroid mining."

"What do we need for that?" Yzak asked.

"Efficient transport to and from the asteroid belt," the Engineer replied immediately. "I know Mendel is the only group with that right now, no need mentioning it, sir." he noted after seeing Yzak's soured expression. "Again, that is why I recommended a high-priority on the Monitors. Yes, this holds higher political significance, but getting the material, manpower, and resources to do it is the big problem for the next year minimum."

"Message received," Yzak said. "I'll see if I can shift some weight up top, get the monitor projects some more leeway. It appears most of what must be done hinges on them anyway."

"Well, if we want to see this done inside our natural lives, we may want to expedite it before Blue Cosmos really gets up on their hind legs."

-x-x-x-

(24 December CE 71, 0900 hours UTC)  
(Open seas south of Hawaiian Islands)

A BAT-C System (**B**attle **A**utomated **T**raining **C**omputer) made the big difference between just plain training and something close enough to the real thing. James made sure he brought one along with him to help in training when he was off duty. When he packed the thing into his supply allotment he wasn't expecting to use it to help train his mechanic in the art of mobile warfare but it turned out that was what the kid wanted more than to fix the machines.

More than that, James had to admit that the runt was damn good at it. Once the telemetry and neural interpreter bugs were worked out for his piloting profile, Woody had taken only about a week of four-hour training sessions to break even with ZAFT ground forces. Strictly speaking James had to admit that wasn't a huge thing to talk about, since he considered a band of Magi fourth-graders armed with Popsicle sticks to be able to break even with ZAFT, but it was a damn sight better than the average for Omnimech pilots. James estimated that Woody would be ready for his first crack at a Trial of Position by late February, maybe early March.

"The point of transition," Woody noted when the enemy Mobile Suits realized that he was north of them instead of east. A quick shift in torso direction relative to his walking axis and the massive Blood Asp had its guns to bear on the target. Willy was using the same variant as James was riding, one which traded in the primary variant's heavy lasers and Gauss Rifles for ER lasers, an ERPPC, and LRM launchers.

The enemy had range to their advantage; the Strike Dagger beam rifles were good to about two kilometers in atmosphere, whereas the ER Medium lasers carried in profusion on the Blood Asp were only effective to 1500 meters. On the other hand, the ER Particle Cannon outranged the opposition at 2300 meters and the LRMs were natively lethal at 2100 meters. Thus, when the first beams started passing by his machine, Woody simply locked up the first of the enemy Strike Daggers and loosed the PPC at 1950 meters; a head shattered and the enemy pilot stopped, now temporarily blinded by the loss of his primary cameras. The crosshairs fell on the next of the tangos, and with only a second's delay to achieve missile guidance lock, he released thirty LRMs to silence the foe.

"How's the greenhorn doing?" Star Commander Tiffany asked as she approached the cockpit and the training system.

"Reasonable, but he is driving a Blood Asp so the results are a bit foregone," James admitted. "Just a matter of time, so long as the enemy doesn't put a beam rifle round in the cockpit."

"Everyone starts somewhere," she admitted while looking over the training console. "Okay, looks like two down, one damaged and two maneuvering now."

"They will maneuver, but not well enough. They're trying to close to beam saber range, but the closer they get the easier it will be for a Blood Asp to kill them."

"Yeah, that quad of ER Mediums you carry in the right arm can tear up even the 105 Daggers with one or two good bursts," Tiffany said. "And the PPC just makes things tough for 'em outside of their own weapon ranges."

"Except for the Launcher Strike Packs, yeah," James commented.

The radio Tiffany was wearing crackled. The same thing happened inside James' helmet, since he was on standby rotation he had to be ready to deploy in a moment's notice, though he was wearing a simple neurohelmet and not the usual pilot's armor. "Ground control, this is Crimson Four, do we have a couple of _Spengler_-class aircraft carriers due to make a housecall today?"

"Negative Crimson Four, there should be no Earth Alliance forces in the area," the Ground Tower replied.

"Then you may want to ask the EA why they're charging right at us, 'cause I got a pair of 'em northeast of the Gigafloat and headed right for us."

"Woody, sim's canceled, we got company. Jump out," James ordered.

"Sir?"

"Either jump out or climb in back, some EA pukes are about to drop by. C'mon!" SC Tiffany was already headed for her machine, and the ready-team of Marines were filing out of their adopted barracks for action.

"Roger that!" Woody unbuckled himself from the seat and climbed backwards over the command couch into the short storage bay behind the seat.

"Attention Gigafloat Mass Driver and all personnel onboard, this is the mercenary unit Black Hand. We are under contract to capture the Gigafloat intact. Surrender immediately and you will not be fired upon. All resisting parties will be destroyed, including the Serpent Tail and Crimson Guard mercenary units."

"Black Hand lead from Crimson Guard lead, come back," Tiffany replied from the cockpit of her Cauldron-Born.

"This is Black Six, state your peace honey," the enemy CO sounded older and somewhat wizened, a dangerous combination in Magi parlance. Clan warriors may have considered the old soldiers to be incapable to the task, but Magi could and readily did prove that the older ones were the most dangerous of all.

"Sounds like you boys have done your homework, you know what the OpFor is and you know you're riding a pretty good position. Got some bad juju for you boys though: our contract does not allow us to surrender, and as you have the superior speed we cannot retreat. Battle is inevitable; I suggest you prepare for it."

"You had your chance. Don't whine to Saint Peter when you find yourself standing at the gates."

"It's 39 degrees outside, winds from the west at ten kilos, we've got 35 percent cloud cover, and I am on pretty good terms with God. It is a very good day to die, amigo, and a better day to ensure I have company in Hell when I get there. Come and get me." Tiffany changed settings on her radio, content with that much to intimidate the enemy force structure. "Serpent Lead, Crimson Lead, you active?" Tiffany asked on a channel reserved (and encrypted) for the mercenary guards and security forces.

"Roger that, what is your plan?" Gai Murakumo asked. He studiously didn't comment on her prior transmission.

"We let 'em board and disperse on the eastern edge, then fight 'em as they come west. How say you?"

"Excellent, if they board on the east their ship's can't provide fire support without ripping up key facilities on the Gigafloat. They have to engage us separately."

"And engaging us separately means Mobile Suits at best, marine boarding parties at worst," James commented as he finished cinching into the cockpit harnesses. "How do we want to do this, boss lady?"

"I want you and Ami down on the south side, if they're going to try a blitz that is the best side of the Gigafloat to do it on. Jessie and I will take the north perimeter of the floater and Rick needs to hold about the area of the Ground Tower for close arty support."

"Already moving in your direction, ma'am," Rick replied in the silence thereafter, given that he was the deployed 'mech patrol for this watch. "I only have 20 rounds on board, ten standard, five homing, and five cluster. Call your shots, but make sure you're not wasting rounds or I'm fucked."

"Artillery 'mech, this is Ground Control, I can have worker MS units feed you artillery rounds between fire calls unless something special needs to be done to load your machine up," the Ground Director declared.

"Neg, nothing special except one brave sod to make sure the cellular ammo baffles are loaded and seated right," Rick commented.

"Command, Crimson Three reporting ready for battle," Jessie announced on the radio. "I heard the plan, I'll be waiting for you at the truck bay 3-5-0 meters east of the central command facility."

"Command, Crimson Four, we've got a bigass problem down here on the south side," Ami declared.

"What? How big a problem?" Tiffany asked.

"Oh, 'bout a hundred thousand tons, give or take."

-x-

"Uh, Cap'n, something's not right here," Teana commented with a very worried tone.

"Helm, put the ship down already," the Captain ordered. "Teana, what's wrong?"

"Something, I'm not sure what's going on, but flight control is not responding to my calls for update." She paused for a few seconds, then gasped. "Captain, the Earth Alliance is trying to storm the Gigafloat!"

"Conn, Sensors, we just got zipped by a naval radar set, 0-7-5 at 15 kilometers! Confirmed track, they know we're here!"

The ship, _Guild II_-class Dropship _GDS954522_ (No hull name), rattled as it landed on its ordered location. Unlike the first time it came to Earth, it did not creak and groan as it had in months past, most of the problems had been fixed. Not that such was a consolation to the command staff, given what Teana just told them.

"Teana, find out what the hell is going on around here! Are they invading or not? Are they hostile or not?" the Captain asked with a worried edge to voice.

"Captain, you need to hear this," Teana transferred the audio stream to the main bridge speakers.

"Golf-Delta-Sierra-9-5-4-9-2-2, this is Crimson Guard mercenary unit, the Gigafloat is about to become a battlefield. Request you leave immediately by vector 2-2-0 at best speed, reroute to Onogoro in Orb territory. Do not, repeat, do not allow your ship to be captured!"

"Crimson Guard, this is 954-922," the Captain began on her bridge growler set to the transmitting frequency. "We cannot take off at this time. Enemy has search radars active and I guarantee even their lackluster gunnery officers can hit this big frigging target of a ship," the Captain said. "We'll remain on deck, and if they so much as scratch my paint I'll show them why the other Star Empires call the _Guild_ ships 'Battleglobes'."

"This is gonna get messy," the Crimson Guard speaker noted coldly.

-x-

"Admiral, looks like they landed a Dropship but they haven't deployed anything from it."

"There won't be anything coming out of that ship," the Admiral said. "Those _Guild II_-class ships like that one are set up specifically for hauling freight. The only way they can haul military units is in crates in the holds." The Admiral was silent for a few moments. "They are, however, armed ships. Don't get too close or you'll take damage."

"Should we fire on it?" The Weps officer asked.

"No, we're facing mercenaries, not the Mendel Empire itself. That Dropship is a Mendel asset. If we fire on it, that would be all the excuse Mendel would need to renege on their treaty obligations," the Admiral admitted. "We'll capture it and ransom it back to them, however. A quarter of the value of the ship and contents should come out to somewhere near five billion Earth-dollars or so."

A few whistles accompanied their planning. "Five bill is **real** money, boss-man," the helmsman commented.

"Admiral, we're close enough to deploy the new prototypes," the Mobile Forces Commander said.

"No, hold off on that for now. I want the new capabilities to serve as a surprise for them," the Admiral ordered. "Helm, time to arrival at Gigafloat?"

"Ten minutes, Admiral," the helmsman replied.

"Radio, signal the _Halsey_ to deploy Spearhead teams, we need to soften up the enemy forces before we land our Mobile Suits. Flight Control, launch our fighters."

"Roger that," and the fight controllers began issuing takeoff instructions to the six waiting fighters, three on the ship's catapults and three on the VTOL landing platforms at the stern (1) of the ship. The _Hallsey_ followed suit within seconds, first with three that loosed from the STOL catapults, then with three more that took off from the rear landing deck.

"Whole squadron of fighters," the Admiral said, looking at the twelve fighters as they formed up and prepared to move in on the Gigafloat.

"We get to see what their vaunted Battlemechs are worth, eh?" the radar operator asked.

"Indeed," the Admiral replied. "Indeed."

-x-

"Fighters inbound, read types as Spearhead fighters," Tiffany said. "Let 'em take a pass, get comfortable with the thought of strafing us, then bust 'em in the chops on the second fly-by. Follow?"

"Two copies;" "Three rogers your last;" "Four;" "Five, couldn't shoot 'em down anyways."

"Command, Marines Three, we're approaching the east-side dockyard. What do you want us to do?"

"Hole up and wait for orders," Tiffany replied immediately. "This is an armored assault operation, they're probably thin on infantry. You boys may have to go Boot-to-Mech (2) before this is done."

"With pleasure, ma'am," the same Marine replied.

"Enemy fighters in range," and all five pilots cringed when the twelve fighters screamed overhead, strafing with light machine cannons and in two cases missiles. "Holy shit! I took a missile in the leg!" Jessie shouted. "Nothing serious, I'll live, but that thing sheared a good chunk off my leg."

"No shit a chunk off your leg, I can see the myomers for your foot actuator," Tiffany commented. "Ground forces, authorized full unload on the enemy air assets when they come back for round two, left alone those missiles will cut us to ribbons."

"Their machine cannons were pretty much useless against us, though," James commented. "20 millimeter is for use on battle armor, not on battlemechs."

"Tell that to them, James," Tiffany said.

"And then what? Spearheads with improved guns? Not happening, ma'am," James said.

"Can you really get their fighters in this thing?" Willie asked James.

"Yeah, kid, here," and he threw a switch on his targeting control panel. "Now my sensors are showing only airborne contacts with non-friendly IFF systems." There were 12 contacts in their air under that designation, six pairs of fighters moving in six different patterns. "Serpent Lead from Crimson Two, you have any preference on their air threat right now?"

"Elijah and I are going to take out the element that is coming in from the southwest right now. You guys?"

"We've got a plan or two," James replied.

"Approaching outer air defense range, guys. Get ready to give 'em hell," Tiffany ordered. "Send your shots!"

Her phrasing was a minor but very critical nuance of military lingo. A command to 'fire' would have entailed all five shooting immediately, which result would have been less than useful as none except her were really on target. Her command to 'send your shots' was a common command for snipers, and a distinction that the gunners should shoot when they were assured they had a solid hit. As such, Tiffany was the first to fire and the first on the scoreboard, though Gai Murakumo and Jessie were not far behind in scratching other fighters.

"See, I knew they would start with the fighters, thinking they could soften us up," James said before he loosed his shot. A Kreuss "Clan-Canner" ER-PPC in his Omnimech's left arm was the first defiance he gave the incoming fighters, and in this case the only defiance he needed for the moment. The azure semi-lightning semi-beam intersected the lead enemy fighter in the left engine nacelle, and herein the power of a battlemech's weapon worked to his advantage. The entire left half of the enemy craft from mid-fuselage outward was sheared off and broke up; the rest of the fighter nosed into the waves without enough time for the pilot to eject. "James with one, other puke broke off and is runnin' home to momma."

"Tiffany with one, and myself with one," Jessie commented. "Plus Gai got two, that makes for over a third of their mobile air headed down to Davey Jones."

"He'll be back, you just scared the shit out of him," Ami groused. The element she had been preparing to shoot up had also broke off when they saw what kind of firepower they were facing.

"I hope I scared him shitless, that is what the Blood Asp was designed for."

"Bullshit," Tiffany called.

"Well, next to the Atlas, of course," he appended. "Nothing beats the fear factor of a lance of Atlases coming right at your face."

"I still call bullshit, but we can save that argument for later," Tiffany replied.

"Oh ye of little faith," James replied before he let off the radio switch. "What do you think so far, Willy?"

"That sound you didn't hear over the PPC was the sound of me creaming myself," Woody replied deadpan. "Dude, I knew this thing had some serious firepower, but I never imagined it tearing a fighter in half in one shot."

"Oh ye of little faith," James said again. "Just wait until we go head to head with their MS forces, then it gets interesting."

-x-

"Well, if nothing else, we've seen they can do anti-air work real easy," the Mobile Forces commander groused, watching the IFF repeaters for the fighters zero out one after the next, five in rapid succession.

"Have the fighters orbit outside their gun range while the rest of the fighters form up to join them," the Admiral ordered. The second wave (of two) was just positioning on catapults and takeoff pads to deploy. "What do we know of their locations?"

"Sir, two enemy machines believed to be the Cauldron-Born and the Timber Wolf have been sighted on the north strip, Blood Asp and Black Lanner confirmed to the south. Position of the Naga is unknown, Serpent Tail appears to be holding in the area of the command tower near the center of the island."

"They read us pretty thoroughly," the Mobile Suit commander said with a clear smile to tone. "They definitely don't train in fools among the Magi."

"What are you planning?" the Admiral asked the mobile forces commander.

"I'll go in with the teams," Neo Roanoke replied. Formerly of the Eurasian side of the Earth Alliance, he considered himself very lucky that the Magi had intervened in the Second of Jachin Due, even to the point of thanking them for shooting him down. Had he not been swatted by a massive missile attack by Diamond Element, it was extremely likely that Rau Le Creuset would have killed him for real less than five minutes later. The GINN High Maneuver unit he was fighting was no pushover, but he knew his limits, and one of those limits was Creuset. "The Timber Wolf and Cauldron-Born is the heavier pair in terms of firepower, so I'll go south. Once we take out the Blood Asp, we will have their flank."

"Think you can do that?" the Admiral asked fairly. By all accounts, the Blood Asp was big, burly, heavily armored, and carried enough guns to slag a platoon of Mobile Suits into scrap in one volley.

"Morgan Chevalier and that traitor Mu La Flaga aren't the only pilots capable of handling remote weapons, and most Magi aren't trained to deal with 'em. I think I can get him cold with a little work." Neo was referring to the use of the Gunbarrel Striker pack for the 105 Daggers, though their effectiveness would be diminished inside the atmosphere – the gunbarrels could be fired from their mounts on the pack, but were not designed to separate and maneuver in atmosphere.

_Better you than me, Neo_, the Admiral didn't say. "Do it," he finally ordered. "Time to docking?"

"Two minutes, sir," the helmsman replied.

"Flight control, have the _Halsey_ launch a platoon of the Strike Daggers early and one platoon from our carrier as well, so we can establish a beachhead before the carriers are in range of their guns," Neo ordered. The flight controllers were fast to relay those orders and get units moving.

"Anything else I need to be aware of before I head out?" Neo asked in the silence of the bridge before he opened the bulkhead door.

"Avoid shooting at that Dropship and avoid damaging or destroying critical facilities. Anything else is fair game," the Admiral ordered.

"Fair enough, sir. See you down on the float after the shooting is over."

-x-

"Incoming, Strike Daggers deploying from the carriers, count two lances of the buggers," the Ground Control Tower declared.

"Once they land, keep us apprised of where they are," Tiffany requested.

"Well, they're on the east-side docks right now," the ground controller noted. "They landed and spread out, they haven't done anything since."

"They know we have an artillery 'mech around here and they aren't going to provoke us into using it." Rick couldn't sound any more disappointed in James' opinion. "Also means they know what our artillery doctrine looks like. Must have taken bondsman someone who knows our artillery doctrine inside and out, probably a spotter-trained MS pilot."

"They did," Tiffany commented bleakly. "MS Pilot, I dated the guy once, nothing spectacular. Decent in the cockpit, but trained expert on artillery, airstrike and suborbital support. They know that part of our playbook real well; it goes without saying Sutherland isn't exactly using bondsmen for whipping boys."

"A bit of cruel truth," Rick commented. "Control, what are they doing now?"

"Waiting for the carriers to dock, which will happen in about a minute."

"Tiffany? Call a shot?"

"Neg, we save that surprise until they come looking for trouble," Tiffany replied. She would never understand the magnitude of her mistake.

"Your call, boss," Rick replied; he was clearly unhappy with the thought of not firing on a known and immobile threat.

"Sniper element is up on the Ground Tower, we have good field. Enemy shipping is pulling into place right now, dropping load ramps. Tally eight Strike Daggers so far, now I show another eight Strike Daggers coming out of the ships, so call that four lances Strike Daggers."

"Bloody wonderful, we're about to get overwhelmed by the numbers," Tiffany replied. "Crimson Five, call a shot," she ordered.

"Standing by," Rick replied.

"On the east docks, put one conventional and one Cluster round at their muster point 100 meters inland. One salvo, then secure for move."

"Setting up," Rick replied. Four seconds later: "Two shots away."

"Command, Snipers, last machines are out of the carriers. Four Duel Daggers, Two Buster Daggers, and two 105 Daggers, one with a Launcher Strike, another with some strange shit that kinda looks like the ass end of a Moebius Zero."

"Gunbarrel Striker pack, rare hardware. Are they leaning in any direction?"

"If anything, toward the south, but looks like a company of the Strike Daggers are postured north. Arty splash, stand by."

The 'common' shell landed first among the enemy, a simple large explosive round with several hundred meters radius of blast (3). His aim was dead-on and the shell landed within 2 meters of where he intended it land, though the results were not as expected since the enemy had begun moving in the intervening seconds. The second shell deflected slightly south and east, and because it missed the target point it ended up doing more damage than intended. "How's my aim? Can they feel me now?" Rick asked.

"Standard shell got two of the Strike Daggers postured north, cluster shell got part of one of the vehicle bays, but also landed damn near on top of their south-bound formation. I count three southern Strike Daggers down for the count and damage to just about every other machine in the south formation."

"God loves the cannon-cockers," Rick said with a clear smile to tone.

-x-

"God loves the cannon-cockers," Neo groused in a severely pissed-off tone. His 105 Dagger had been far enough away from the centroid of the pattern to avoid being crippled like one of the Duel Daggers, but was close enough that the cluster round had somewhat damaged both his armor and the Gunbarrel Striker. "At least we aren't driving tanks, or we'd be dead men right now." the same couldn't be said of two of his Strike Dagger pilots. "Louis, can you move and shoot?"

"Yeah, boss, I can for a while, but I'm leaking hydraulics somewhere south of my hip plates. Four minutes and I'm not going anywhere," the severely-damaged Duel Dagger pilot replied.

"Four minutes should be enough. Move it up, people, they won't be overlong in sending another air-mail can of whoopass."

"Sir, they're probably waiting for us down this way," one of the Buster Dagger pilots noted. "Should we try to snipe them?"

"No, we have to move fast before the artillery comes in for round two. Prepare to blitz this corner," he ordered. "Five seconds,"

"This is gonna suck," the one undamaged Duel Dagger's pilot groaned.

"Now!" Neo shouted, suiting actions to words as he charged around the corner with his shield forward and facing the direction of threat.

The fighters took it as cue to begin their second dance as well, and as one the remaining 19 Spearhead fighters stopped orbiting outside gun range and closed in. Neo needed only one look at what was going on to properly understand what happened, the Blood Asp was facing right at him, the Black Lanner was facing outward with its stubby gun-arms aimed to the sky. Captain Roanoke began to order the fighters to break off, but before he could properly open his mouth to speak two of them had been blotted from the sky with laser fire, and missiles intercepted a third less than two seconds later.

"Three fighters on one salvo? They can't be human! Not even ZAFT is that good!"

"Hit 'em!" Neo shouted. "Close in and hammer on 'em! It's the only way we're going to win this one!" He suited actions to words with his own machine; the top two Gunbarrels on his striker pack popped open and loosed rail gun rounds as he brought the machine gun up and ripped a burst at the Black Lanner. Most of the rounds fell short at the intervening distance, but a few of them did manage to drill into the 55-ton omnimech at range.

The Black Lanner never turned to face its erstwhile attackers, instead it continued to focus on the significant air threat in the skies to the south. The ground action came down to the Blood Asp, and Neo had to admit to himself that seeing one in real life was far less abstract and far more terrifying than looking at recon photos. Especially when its first action was to fire off long-range missiles in a huge stream from two shoulder-mounted packs. Thankfully, most of the missiles went over the advancing Mobile Suits, though part of one of the salvos clipped the remaining Strike Dagger in his company and brought it down.

"Holy shit, sir! How many missiles did that thing just fire at us?" The senior Buster Dagger pilot asked before he returned fire with a sniper shot. The long-range beam missed between its legs, though it did stir the enemy pilot to moving...straight at the oncoming Mobile Suits.

"I dunno, but I don't intend to find out if it has a second volley waiting," Neo said. A second shot from the other Buster Dagger struck it off-center and caused the whole machine to jolt, but not enough to penetrate or knock it down.

"This is disturbing," one of the Duel Dagger pilots commented.

"No, **that's** disturbing," and the 105 Dagger pilot with the Launcher Strike Pack simply pointed at the orange glow of an artillery rocket coming their way.

"Oh SHIT!" Neo hunkered down and swiveled his shield backward, placing his defense behind him where the shell threatened to land. A few were able to follow suit, but most simply took the blast in the ass since the shell landed a mere fifty meters behind them. "Oh man, their artillery really knows how to lead us. Rush their 'mechs! They won't use artillery on themselves!"

-x-

"That was Rick?" Woody asked after the echo of the shell blast faded.

"That, my friend, is the power and precision of artillery," James confirmed with a savage grin. "Nearly every battle since the industrial revolution has been decided by artillery. He who has the best and most guns wins."

"Wow, I didn't know that," Willy filed the lesson away.

"Due to the nature of their objective, they can't use artillery themselves – cruise missiles from their carriers – because they don't want to rip up the Gigafloat since those missiles would make the Arrow IV rockets look like firecrackers. We have fire superiority, now to use it."

James thumbed the missile launch trigger on his throttle, loosing another herd of thirty LRMs into their formation. He followed those missiles in himself, intent to close up and finish this attack wave off once and for all. And... "Okay, Buster Dagger dies first," he commented as his crosshairs passed over said machine as it stood up. The PPC spoke loud and violent, the azure streak chopped into the upper left arm of the Buster Dagger and flayed it down to a nub; the severed half landed on the ground along with the gun launcher.

"Wow, that was nuts! I thought those things were supposed to be beam-resistant!" Woody commented.

"Supposed to be is the operational phrase there, comrade," James replied. "Man, not having much luck with my missiles today. Well, just have to go in direct-fire on their asses." He depressed the radio button on the bottom-end of his control stick. "Rick, loft me a homing shell, I'll be in position to tag someone in ten seconds."

"Heading your way now, and a standard headed northbound," Rick replied.

"Huh?" James asked the window in front of him. "I coulda swore I busted that punk already," James groused as a Duel Dagger tried flanking him to the right. "Your funeral, buddy," he said before the right arm tracked outward a bit. All four lasers fired in ripple into the chest of the machine, though it didn't appear to slow down appreciably even with the left torso flayed open. "Damn, that's some tough armor."

"They really are beam-resistant, then," Woody commented.

"Round in range for TAG guidance," Rick informed him.

"We'll sort this one out," and James activated the TAG Laser to guide the missile in the rest of the way. With a little work he had the IR beam centered on the Duel Dagger, though he received a bark from its shoulder-mounted cannon for his effort. "Well, that was interesting, cannon just tore a chunk out of my right arm armor."

"Splash," Rick informed him, meaning the artillery round should have landed...

...and it did. Woody could just barely see the missile slam into the upper chest of the Duel Dagger and loose its fury; the homing Arrow-IV round obliterated the head and shoulders off the machine, where the remnant of the Duel Dagger fell backwards, unmoving.

"Artillery: it's what's for dinner, bitch," James sneered at the deceased Duel Dagger. "Who's next?"

The enemy answered for him, a crippled Duel Dagger and the surviving Buster Dagger tag-teamed him with missiles. Three hits, followed by a burst from a gun-launcher and the 175mm RPG from the duel dagger's beam rifle provided enough coaxing to knock down the Blood Asp (4).

"SHIIIIT!" When the Blood Asp hit the ground, Woody slammed into the back of the cockpit bulkhead with what he thought was enough force to fracture his ribs. "Oh man, James, you all right?"

"I'll live," he groused. "Time to get up and get back to it."

-x-

"Damn good shooting, you two!" Neo shouted. "I'll finish 'em off!"

"So now wh—NO FREAKING WAY!" the Buster Dagger pilot shouted, looking at the Blood Asp as it struggled to stand. "Impossible! No machine of war can keep coming like that!"

"Hit it! Hit it again!"

"Yes, sir!" the Buster Dagger linked its weapons together in the anti-armor shotgun mode and tracked in on the enemy from hell. A blast caused something in the semi-standing machine to cook off, with a huge gout of flame blowing out of the back of the machine and the entire right arm was severed and sent flying (5). "HA! GOT THE FUCKER!"

"That you did," Neo sighed, then wiped the sweat from his face. "But fuck if I'll ever underestimate a Battlemech in my life again. We need to take that thing apart, see what they did right so we can apply it to our machines."

"Now for the Black Lanner, I take it?"

"Hold," Neo requested. "North team, this is Roanoke. What's your status?"

"Sir, we got cut to ribbons up here, but we got both the fuckers. I have one Strike Dagger undamaged and one beat up, but the rest of the company is in pieces behind us. We're returning to the ship, we can't do any good out here."

"Roger that," Neo sighed again. "Jesus, sweet Jesus, these Battlemechs are a tough nut to crack."

"No joke, sir," the one surviving Duel Dagger pilot grumped.

"Think their artillery mech can fight in close?" the Buster 2 (the Buster Dagger missing the arm) pilot asked.

"Well we gotta find out, and we still haven't seen Serpent Tail yet. This is going to get hairy fast."

-x-

"James?" Woody asked. "James?" he shook the pilot's shoulder and got no response. "Damn," Woody checked for a pulse and got none. The why was easy enough for Woody to figure out, shards of metal had been loosed from a hit to the omnimech's head and had impaled the pilot. How Woody managed to avoid a similar fate was beyond his reasoning, but he could still tell the 'mech was powered up and partially functional. The damage board looked bleak, the whole right half of the 'mech was gone from the engine housing outward, and the right leg was showing multiple actuator failures, but he still had the left-side missile launcher and left arm with its Kreuss clan-model PPC.

Woody's first action was to unbuckle and drag James' dead body backwards and down into the storage area. It took him fifteen seconds, the whole time nerves began fraying in Woody's entire being, hoping that the enemy didn't come by and see him still alive. When that was accomplished, Woody slid into the horizontal seat and strapped himself in tight, then connected his own neurohelmet to the machine's DI computer. The feedback was instantaneous since Woody's brain acted way different from James' thought patterns, but he remembered how to change 'pilot profiles' in the DI system: shut down the DI and gyro, access the pilot config panel, change it over to his profile cartridge, and reactivate the DI and gyro. Another ten seconds and the machine was ready to move without the common problems of using an unfamiliar 'mech.

Wisely, Woody started out by doing nothing except using the surviving external cameras to look around. The enemy had bypassed his downed machine, convinced it was dead, and moved on to the Black Lanner. He had some doubts about the scout 'mech of the unit, but those doubts didn't last long as the final Duel Dagger bought it from a combination of artillery damage and lasers. More than that she could not manage; the Black Lanner was designed as a speed machine through and through, the lack of armor and (relative) lack of weapons didn't give her much option in a 4v1 close-quarters scrap.

"James, can you hear me?" Rick asked over the radio.

"James isn't with us anymore," Woody replied over the same radio band.

"Woody? You were with James in there?" Rick asked. "Jesus kid, you all right?"

"No. I think I have three, maybe four fractured ribs, James is dead and I'm technically behind enemy lines now. I don't think that counts as 'all right' even in Magi lexicon, ne?"

Rick laughed heartily at the thought. "Well, no, but it's not an unheard story to us Magi," he replied heartily. "I know where Ami lost it, where are the enemies now and how are they moving?"

"They're limping along, nearby Truck Shack S-4, westbound at about ten meters a second. Can you compute a hit with that?"

"Easily. Where are you at?" Rick asked.

"Thousand meters east of Ami's dead 'mech. Fire for effect, I'll adjust your fire after the first hit."

"Oh, shit, too close," Rick said. "I'm going to have to get up close and personal with them, I can't range at this angle."

"What do you want me to do?" Woody asked.

"Can you range to them?"

"If I can stand this half-dead hunk up, yeah, I've still got a PPC and one of the LRM packs on this thing."

"Okay, I'll draw their attention west, then you hit 'em from behind. But please don't shoot me while you're at it."

"Roger that, give me a yell when you're ready." Woody gripped the controls and steeled himself for the inevitable; he was either going to die here or make a name for himself, and he hoped it was the latter.

-x-

"Damn, I wish my Launcher pack hadn't bought the farm back there. We'd have his ass for sure."

"You know what they say, Ralph. No plan ever survives contact with the enemy."

"Huh?" Ralph thought he saw the control towers they were approaching flash-lit in orange. "Oh SHIT—"

For Neo, the world flashed white-orange for a moment before his mobile suit was thrown east for nearly a hundred meters. Several different alarms began ringing and buzzing on his control panels, though when he gave a quick glance to his damage panels, everything showed green (undamaged) or yellow (damaged but functional) except for the Gunbarrel Striker, which showed red across the board. "What the hell happened?"

"Direct-fire artillery barrage, he got us with two common shells," Daisy, the pilot of Buster 2, was herself just levering her machine to standing, much as Neo was doing the same. Buster 1 and Dagger 1, the two remaining machines other than theirs, were now catastrophic kills due to artillery damage having rendered them pretty much derelict and beyond economical repair.

"This operation's a bust, we need to cut our losses and head—" Neo never finished the sentence as his machine was thrown to the ground again, this time due to the propellant in Daisy's machine cooking off in something very akin to an explosion. The fail-safes vented the fuel blast away from the rest of the machine and unfortunately right toward his heavily-abused 105 Dagger, resulting in another knockdown and this time the loss of his right arm. The 105 Dagger had landed on its right side, staring east at— "No way! How many fucking times do we have to kill that damn Blood Asp before it stays dead?"

"That was for James, you dumb sunzabitches," a kid said on an open channel; Neo noticed that the left arm on the machine was smoking from the barrel housing and PPC mount, indicating it had just fired. "And this last party favor is for the Crimson Guard."

"What?" Neo couldn't get his machine to move, and both CIWS guns jammed when he tried firing them, making the remainder inevitable but dreadful just the same. The Blood Asp loosed a volley of missiles from its remaining missile pack, and all Neo could do was watch the missile arc up to 500 meters before they nosed down and slammed into his Mobile Suit. This third impact inside the space of a minute was the least of the three, but the most damning of them all. Nothing on his damage panel remained green, and most of the critical systems were all red by the time his world stopped shaking. Even two of his LCD monitors were fractured and a third spidered to unusable.

"So ends my short life as a mercenary," Neo groused. "Hope the kid is fast at killing me, though. I hate long waits."

-x-

"Crimson Five, Serpent lead, you still have ammo?" Gai Murakumo asked.

"Roger that, Serpent. Call your shots, we have no enemy MS in deploy."

"I have good position on the carriers. I would like to cluster-shell their deck guns in preparation for boarding and capturing them. Put two shells downrange, one centered on East-five and one on East-seven piers."

"Two shells loosed, flight time fifteen seconds," Rick replied. "Marines, Crimson Five, prepare to go Boot-to-Squid!"

"Sniper element, sights are hot on CIWS guns, requesting permission to fire."

"Wait four seconds, then send your shots," Gai Murakumo requested.

Four seconds elapsed, then four 20mm Armor Sniper Rifles barked. Two rounds struck the small CIWS guns halfway up the conning tower of the ships, followed by strikes to the radomes on the main anti-air beam cannon batteries on the bow of the ships. The guns knew they had something coming in, but without their radomes they couldn't track and make the shots off the low-resolution search radars attached to the ship. Effectively, without mobile forces and without their CIWS batteries, the ships were defenseless.

It only got worse for the mercenaries-playing-pirate. Three seconds later, the steel rain commenced on the decks and conning towers of the carriers, as each Arrow IV shell loosed 330 softball-sized explosive charges over an area three football fields long and wide centered on their mid-deck elevators. By the time the smoke cleared, both ships were inop in terms of flight operations and point defense; all that remained was the takeover.

"Marines! Move in now!" Gai cleared out of the building he was covering in and immediately closed on the northernmost carrier (the _Port Arthur_). The only two MS still active in the OpFor had hangared up while he was watching, one damaged and the other scorched; neither was in real condition to fight. Elijah moved to the other carrier (_Halsey_) and jumped up on top of the flight deck with a Cattus Recoilless Rifle in right hand and five Marines hanging off his armor. Once Gai landed, the five Marines on his machine dropped off and immediately began a loping run toward the superstructure of the conning tower.

"Attention Black Hand carrier group, this is mercenary Gai Murakumo of the Serpent Tail. Your carriers have been boarded by Mobile Suits and Marines, your Mobile Suits are trashed and your fighters are settling on the bottom of the sea. You can continue to resist, but there is no profit left to claim from your contract. Surrender now, and you will be allowed to disembark the Gigafloat in a peaceful manner."

In front of Gai, a few of the carrier's crew had come out of various ladders and portholes to challenge the boarders. Gai now knew intrinsically why the Magi considered their first strength the Infantry: the ferocity that the Marines brought to battle, even against unarmored opposition, was almost sickening to even the veteran mercenary. Even hand grenades in close proximity didn't slow the Armored Marines down; the combat claws, beam sabers, or heat knives carried by each were easily capable to chopping limbs off anyone dumb enough not to surrender.

"Serpent Lead, Marines Lead, we're inside the ships. Three minutes to objective." Gai could also tell this was an open-channel broadcast, used as an intimidation tactic.

"Serpent Tail and Marines, this is Black Hand. We officially surrender, please cease combat action at this time."

-x-x-x-

(24 December CE 71, 1500 hours UTC)  
(Office of the Chairman of the Earth Alliance, 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, District of Columbia)

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Earth Sphere, at 0900 hours today, forces under the command of the Protectorate of Mendel have engaged in battle against Earth Alliance forces in a pitched battle over the sovereignty of the Gigafloat. In conjunction with the rogue mercenary unit Serpent Tail, these forces have violated the neutrality of the Gigafloat and have engaged in the wholesale slaughter of Earth Alliance personnel and equipment sent to defend the neutrality of the Gigafloat.

"This unprovoked attack against a neutral facility throws into question the entire intention of the Mendel Protectorate: why they are here, what they are doing, and who they intend to be next on their unseen but active hit-list. I call upon the nations of Earth to condemn this action by the rogue state and take forceful action against Mendel to prevent further incidents..."

-x-

"This is so bullshit!" Cagalli half-screeched.

"I find myself surprised that the front row of reporters are not caked in brown material, such as it were," Rondo Mina Sahaku replied as a joke. Captain Ramius suppressed a snigger at the mention.

Yuna Roma Seiran was silent as they listened to the statement in the assembly hall.

"Lady Sahaku, what do you know about this incident?" Colonel Kisaka asked.

"Two-carrier mercenary unit against a nova of Omnimechs and Marines plus Serpent Tail's two machines. Only two Omnimechs and Serpent Tail survived, with three Magi pilots dead, one new recruit and one laid up in the hospital for a month. You've seen the kid's story, right?"

"Yeah, better him than me," Cagalli admitted silently. The thought of taking over an Omnimech with less than a full month's training unsettled even her stomach, much less the thought of doing it while in the middle of a warzone. "So, the Earth Alliance demands action from the world. What do we do about it?" Cagalli asked for the council's opinion.

"Denounce the real pirates of this incident," Lady Odessa Felde Relida replied immediately. "These Black Hand Mercenaries were operating under contract to the Earth Alliance, so we denounce them. We don't speak directly against the Earth Alliance, but we drop the hint that we knew who was pulling strings for what reason."

"I recommend we offer our support to the Gigafloat for extended security contract, given most of their mercenary forces were just slain," Ezekiel Cenvanas replied. "Possibly the _Takemikazuchi_?"

"Colonel?" Rondo Mina asked Kisaka.

"_Takemikazuchi_ and three or four escorts until things cool down," Kisaka replied.

"You're awfully silent, Yuna, Unago," Cagalli prompted.

"I think it's a mistake going against the Earth Alliance," Yuna replied. "A grave mistake. They see their position as cornered, and they are going to lash out at their threats, Cagalli."

"The rest of the world is being cornered or maneuvered by them, Yuna," Ezekiel replied immediately. "They are losing their death-grip on the earth sphere, and this is their gambit to restore their power." Lord Cenvanas looked to Cagalli. "Milady, you know what is being played here just as well as the rest of us. They will attempt to make Mendel the pariahs just prior to annihilating them. Shortly thereafter, the rest of the world will be told to fall in line or suffer the same fate."

"Naval action against Mendel would be next?" Cagalli asked.

"It is not outside the realm of possibility, Representative Cagalli," Captain Ramius replied evenly.

"I consider it more than likely," Rondo Sahaku replied.

"We cannot be involved," Cagalli admitted. "We can defend the Gigafloat, but Mendel must defend themselves."

-x-

Ed Harrelson had been awoken by his aide-de-camp to see the reports.

"That's one bad-ass half-pint," Rico admitted with some admiration for Woody, the 'mech tech that received a (brevet) battlefield promotion to Mechwarrior by the Crimson Guard.

"More than that, he's humble about the whole thing," Ed replied. "He didn't think he did anything special, compared to what the original pilot did."

"What's got me is the disparity of forces involved," the President of the USSA commented. "Five Omnimechs went up against two companies of Mobile suits? Whose leg do I hump to get a division or two of those things?"

Ed couldn't completely suppress the snickering over the President's comment. Rico didn't try concealing the laugh.

"Seriously, why not? What's stopping us?" the President asked in a serious tone.

"Way too complex, and we don't have the base industries or technologies to manufacture 'em," Ed replied. "We'll be doing good to build fighters for ourselves using whatever Mendel can spare for us. Battlemechs are out for everyone, including Mendel; what they have is all they have, and once that runs out, they've got problems. Thankfully, they do have MS capabilities and the ability to manufacture aerospace components or units, so they won't be completely defenseless in five years."

"Makes sense, and you think our path to independence is on the wings of fighters?" the President asked.

"It is," Ed replied. "Or on the treads of main battle tanks that would make the Earth Alliance quake in their jackboots. We're already getting manufacturing online with Mendel and Orb, in the next six months we will be in a position to begin pounding out our own units, made here in the USSA for the use of the USSA."

"Outstanding," the President replied, and meant it. He was already getting pressure from the EA, not concerning this incident yet, but in intent to join the Earth Alliance against Mendel. "Now, the EA wants action; what do we do?"

"I vote you head up to Washington, visit with Riseman, and boot his ass up between his shoulders on international television," Rico opined.

Even the President had a good laugh at such an absurd but mentally hilarious course of actions.

"Seriously, sir, offer the Gigafloat Corporation any aid we can give," Ed Harrelson replied. "I heard the two mercenary units are planning on selling the captured carriers off to the highest bidder. I recommend we pick one up, it won't be much but it would be a good start for our naval branch."

"Should I put out a statement against the EA?" the President mused.

"Orb will do that soon enough," Athrun replied from behind the President. "They'll also move something to help protect and escort the Gigafloat until their mercenary forces can be rebuilt, probably the Orb supercarrier _Takemikazuchi_."

"The only people they be fooling is themselves," Rico commented, meaning the Earth Alliance.

-x-

(24 December CE 71, 1600 hours UTC)

Chairman Durandal stared at the chessboard on his desk, envisioning both moves on the board and moves in real space. "Talk to me, Talia," he said finally, never lifting his eyes from the chess pieces.

"Well, we now have a good idea what it takes to do a Soviet-style steamroller attack against their mobile forces," Talia replied. "The cost of such an attack is literally too high for ZAFT to pay," she admitted quietly.

"The Earth Alliance paid twelve-to-one casualties against the Crimson Guard mercenaries, sir," Yzak clarified what Talia meant. "I should make clear note that the blossoming Mendel mercenary units did not think all that highly of the Crimson Guard; standing opinion prior to today was that they were simply another rote line unit among a bunch of them."

"And now?" Durandal asked.

"There is some criticism for their choice of tactics, but general consensus is they died like Magi should have: outnumbered and outgunned but never outclassed. Oh, by the way, they still took the enemy to Hell with them." This last part was not so much for the Chairman so much as it was for the black-uniformed officers behind the Chairman, who to a man were scowling at Yzak for some reason.

"What lesson can we learn from this engagement?" Chairman Durandal asked.

"Artillery," both Talia and Yzak replied immediately, then looked to each other with sheepish grins.

"Oh?" Durandal was skeptical, mainly because the black-uniform officers behind him had presented report after report of how wasteful artillery was when wagered against the 'efficiency' of Mobile Suits.

Yzak had read those same reports, and was well prepared to make this play. "Well, sir, think of it this way. Half the enemy ground forces were killed by one of the Omnimechs. That Omnimech was the Naga artillery Omnimech; before any of the talking heads behind you say it, the Earth Alliance forces did not die of the dumbs. They got caught in front of a steel wall of four front-line Omnimechs and were held in place long enough for the artillery to rip them apart. They did the same thing to us at the Second of Jachin Due: a wall of mobile armors and Gundams supported by warships that tore everything foolish enough to get close to shreds. If you need any more evidence, I can refer you to Talia's bondsman, who while not the best still knows a lot of good ones where artillery beat out Mobile Suits time and time again."

"I am beginning to believe that bias may have been involved in my prior musings on the subject," Chairman Durandal replied.

"Sir, I still think I could have taken down that Naga in close with a GINN," one of the officers behind the Chairman declared.

Yzak laughed heartily at the thought. "Sorry, Adjutant Wesley, my money is on the Naga pilot," he commented. "You all saw the battle ROM of the final blow just the same as I did. He direct-fired two Arrow-IV missiles into the deck with the intention of using the blast wave to knock down the last four suits. He managed to do just exactly that, and the Blood Asp finished the two survivors. Think about it: five hundred meters travel for the missiles, three and a half seconds from trigger pull to blast. That's not even enough time to stick your head between your legs and kiss your hind-quarters goodbye." After a second, he considered a different tack: "You know, I think I'll give you the GINN to do it with."

"Really?" the chastised officer replied sarcastically.

"Yeah, sure, I need to get one GINN off my books and swap it out for a GuAIZ anyways," Yzak replied. "Tell you what. Come down to my dock area after the meeting, I'll give you the GINN and your choice of arsenal. Just be sure to take two aspirin before you set out, and call me from the grave when you get there."

"Yzak," Chairman Durandal warned.

"Sir," Yzak replied immediately.

"Okay, their artillery section truly won the war this time around," Chairman Durandal provided his take on the analysis. "What can ZAFT do to mirror this capability? If it worked for five Omnimechs, it definitely can work for us."

Yzak was not prepared for that question, and he showed it. "Our training doesn't really reflect a reliance on artillery, or specifically any form of fire support," Talia replied. "As such, whatever we do we need to ensure the capabilities mesh with our current and proposed systems. Preferably, something that can be used by anyone we would retask to artillery duty, since the capability would have to be variable and redeployable."

One of the otherwise silent adjutants stepped forward. "Sir, we're planning the Wizard interchangeable equipment system for the next-generation systems, why not make an artillery Wizard system?"

"I'd recommend an MLRS system, similar to the Arrow-IV system just demonstrated," Yzak replied. "Use MLRS drop-packs, fire-and-eject launchers that fit over the other wizard packs for temporary artillery duty. This would allow us an opening salvo from multiple units that can eject the packs and continue the battle in their native fashion."

"We can also do a static-mount Wizard pack similar to that, with reloadable tubes instead of a one-shot ejectable array for more permanent artillery duty," the same Adjutant replied. "Now, MLRS would be good for moderate-range support, we need something for long-range, preferably tube artillery..."

-x-

(24 December CE 71, 1700 hours UTC)

Star Admiral Centara adjusted the microphone and verified his note-puter was working properly before he began. He looked up and saw many eyes, many curious, but some furious. Of the latter, there existed two camps: those who believed the EA rhetoric, and those who saw through their smoke and mirrors. Today he would knock the props out from the former, and reinforce the latter.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I'll be the first to say today that we have seen some extraordinary action in the past twelve hours. Before we get down to the perceptions of what has happened, allow me to be the first to give a full-on briefing of the events that transpired on the Gigafloat. To accompany, I will also release both the radio logs from the captured mercenary carriers and from the Omnimechs on the ground. Full copies of these transcripts will be provided in paper, electronic, and audio format to any requesting press agency, government, or corporation, and copies will be available for general download within 20 hours."

Wayne took a deep breath, and looked to the main view screen in the press room. "You all know this silhouette, the Gigafloat. At 0900 hours UTC, the deployment of mobile forces on the Gigafloat was as such," and two contacts were highlighted. "The unit to the east is the Naga Omnimech, call-sign Crimson Five; the contact near the towers is Serpent Two. You will note that at this time, the supposed point of invasion of the Gigafloat as per Earth Alliance claims, there are no other mobile forces in deploy. Two machines, with five more in hangars around the Gigafloat, does not an invasion make. This deployment is confirmed by Gigafloat logs and radio chatter for an hour prior to 0900."

The picture zoomed out a bit, and two more contacts where highlighted. "At approximately 0904 UTC, these two aircraft carriers were sighted approaching the Gigafloat from the East. At this time, the carrier task force identified itself as the mercenary unit Black Hand. Radio records show clearly that the Black Hand clearly declared their intention to board and capture the Gigafloat, and that they were prepared to kill any forces that resist. They specifically declared that they would engage and annihilate the Crimson Guard and Serpent Tail units in the Gigafloat should they resist. For reference, this is on pages one and two of the radio printed transcripts, lines 22 to 38."

The timer advanced and the two carriers approached the Gigafloat. "At 0915 UTC, the carriers arrived on-site and disembarked Mobile Suits. You will note from this freeze-frame that there are aerial contacts, and if we rewind a couple of minutes you can see here," Wayne highlighted a dozen contacts circling the floating manmade island, "an air assault was launched prior to Black Hand landing operations. Five fighters were scratched on the initial attack, and more were dropped as the shooting began in earnest at about 0917 UTC." The playback continued from where Wayne said, and indeed two of the 'mechs and Serpent tail were clearly seen to be facing off against 19 enemy fighters.

Wayne recentered the view to show the eastern half of the Gigafloat from the control towers back. "As I said, the combat began in earnest at 0917 UTC, with two companies of Black Hand Mobile Suits against one star of Crimson Guard Omnimechs. The opening shots were fired by the enemy air forces, though the ground battle was preempted by this unit here," and Wayne highlighted Crimson Five again; "Crimson Five, an artillery omnimech, with a conventional shell here and a cluster shell here," and Wayne highlighted the impact points as the display showed the Arrow-IV launches.

Wayne prepared for the next part of the briefing, which was a run-down on the complexities of mobile warfare in such a small and dense-packed area. "The terrain involved here and the nature of the Black Hand's contract favored the defense at every turn. You can see here that the eastern docks are shielded from direct line of sight due to the rail launcher and the support buildings all along the eastern side of the island. As such, the only way to clear this facility is exactly how the Black Hand did it; one soldier to another, I give props to the Black Hand for doing their job even against all odds and probably knowing they were going to bite the big one. Still, as soon as they rounded the corner at this vehicle bay, they are in direct line of sight to these units here, Crimson Two and Four, and in range for long-range attacks such as LRMs and PPCs, like what is fired at 0918." The display showed the attacks in question, as well as enemy contacts going down from the hits. "At the same time, the northern attack had to cross into the open jetty around the northern perimeter, and in the same fashion came into direct line of sight and limiting terrain entrapment from Crimson One and Three. Basically, these two jetties," and Wayne highlighted the open platform areas north and south, "are what military personnel call 'funneling terrain'. For the Black Hand to get to their objective, they have to go through this funnel, and basically they were running a gauntlet in the face of a 95-ton Omnimech in the south and a 75-ton Omnimech in the north. No two ways about it, the Black Hand paid in blood to get close enough to even return fire on the omnimechs."

Wayne let the analysis play out a little more, including another artillery attack. "This is where it gets interesting, at 0920. Most of the Strike Daggers had bought it by now, and so had Crimson One and Three. The remaining Strike Daggers reported combat loss grouping and began withdrawing to the carrier. Note here the present of Serpent Lead and Serpent Two," and Wayne highlighted them as they moved slowly through the interior alleyways. "The two MS of Serpent Tail had been using the ground battle as cover to swat the enemy air force and prevent their using strafing attacks against the Omnimechs, but when the air targets ran out they began moving along the central alleyways toward the carriers. Keep that in mind; Serpent Tail did not take the carriers by deceit, by luring them in and jumping them, they closed in under their noses and jumped 'em just after the ground war was concluded. You'll see what really happened here in a few moments."

Wayne reconfigured the display and centered on the southern battle. "Also at 0920, the battle took a turn for the nasty down here in the south. Crimson Two closed up on the enemy formation to deal out some in-your-face punishment, and it did so pretty efficiently with the assistance of the artillery unit." To point, the display showed the A4 Homing round strike the Duel Dagger, which grayed out to show a kill. "However, a close-in assault from several of the enemy machines knocked the Blood Asp down here. When the pilot attempted to clamor his machine to standing, a blast from this Buster Dagger tore open the armor on its right side and detonated an ammo reserve in the machine. Battle records show that the ammo detonated counted up as two point five tons of LRMs, with half a ton of those LRMs having been exhausted prior. That blast sheared the entire right half of the 'mech off from the engine housing outward, and part of the enemy attack also struck the cockpit, killing the pilot but not the mechanic in the back of the cockpit."

The view continued a bit more. "The last major datum point to be shown for the ground combat is this part, where the southern attack finally befell the artillery unit. The Naga, callsign Crimson Five, launched a direct-fire attack against the unit by targeting the ground just in front of them while they were still out of sight, obscured by this generator building. The blast caused this," and Wayne drew a circle around the expected blast shell, "and that encompasses all four of the surviving machines. These two, a 105 Dagger and a Buster Dagger, didn't get up again. The trailing machines, a heavily-damaged Buster Dagger and their commander's 105 Dagger, did get up; you will notice at this time that the Blood Asp is standing and moving again, albeit poorly. A particle cannon shot to the rear of the Buster Dagger blew through and detonated its fuel reserve, which blast knocked down the struggling 105 Dagger. The ground battle was ended by the rookie pilot in the Blood Asp with this launch from the remaining LRM launcher," and the salvo could be seen on the 'god' view as it was loosed and eventually terminated in the 105 Dagger.

"The final action of this engagement is over here, at the ships." the view recenters on the ships. "At 0925, an impromptu attack was staged in three phases. First, snipers from the Marines of Crimson Guard fired on and disabled the primary defensive CIWS weapons on the ships, in preparation for phases two and three. Second, two cluster artillery shells were used on the targets, one per ship, to damage and render disabled any other weapons systems and/or kill exposed personnel. Third, once the firecrackers died down, Serpent Tail boarded the ships with a 'mech-mobile Marine force and captured the ships. At the point that the Marines entered the superstructure of the _Port Arthur_, the commander task force Black Hand surrendered. Combat action ceased when he surrendered."

Wayne braced himself for the next part of the briefing; this is where the Earth Alliance really began perverting the truth. "Now, in after-action operations, a total of fourteen of the Mobile Suit pilots were recovered alive and nine of the Spearhead pilots were also recovered. Additionally, the crews of the _Halsey_ and _Port Arthur_ have been removed from their ships and are presently held prisoner on the Gigafloat by the remnants of Crimson Guard. The ships, as per their contract with the Junk Guild, are technically the isorla of the capturing units. Serpent Tail has agreed to split the value of the ships and salvaged Mobile Suits fifty-fifty with the Crimson Guard, so that comes out to just shy of two billion earth-dollars per mercenary unit. The crews and captured MS pilots will be returned to their parent nations forthwith, and as of 1600 hours the Crimson Guard was working on routing transport for them through Jakarta in the Equatorial Union."

Wayne prepared for the onslaught that his next statement would bring. "The first claim made by the Earth Alliance, that Mendel had somehow taken over the Gigafloat, is patently false. Included in your press packets is a copy of the garrison contract signed by Star Commander Tiffany, requesting her unit defend the Gigafloat. Second, also included in your packets is the Release to Contract forms for all five of the 'Mechwarriors and all twenty-five of the Marines involved in the battle. As of the date of signing of that form, the involved personnel ARE NOT MAGI OR MENDEL SOLDIERS AND ARE NOT IN THE COMMAND STRUCTURE OF THE MENDEL PROTECTORATE," Wayne took a deep breath after that emphasis. "When a Magi soldier signs the Release to Contract, they are gone, they are their own unit and they can do whatever they want. Some units may maintain reciprocal unit maintenance contracts, though this is considered a civilian contract service and is not related to Magi military operations. As such I refuse the claim that the Magi military was involved in this battle, and furthermore I claim insult from the Earth Alliance for accusing us of an operation against a civilian party that we do business with. Mendel's contracts with the Junk Guild are public record, and we have no desire whatsoever to forfeit those obligations which are profitable to both us and the rest of Earth."

There was a short stir among the press pool, but most were silent. "Second, the direct accusation that Mendel has slaughtered captured Earth Alliance personnel is also patently false and extremely insulting. While I have no particular love for the Earth Alliance, I also have no outstanding Trial of Annihilation against the Earth Alliance. Therefore, any Earth Alliance personnel captured in operations against Mendel will be treated as per the Geneva Convention, now and furthermore unless I am ordered to do otherwise. Note clearly that this protection does not extend to Blue Cosmos or Earth Alliance personnel caught in clandestine espionage, sabotage or terrorism operations, nor does such protection apply to Earth Alliance regulars captured in the process of committing war crimes. I will not countenance the slaughter of civilians, regardless of who does it or why."

This also caused a bit of a stir, but less so than the prior statement. "Finally, in following with the statements from the other nations of this world, Mendel calls upon the Earth Alliance to back off their present inflammatory and baseless rhetoric forthwith. Orb, the United States of South America, ZAFT, Scandinavia and South Africa have all spoken against this incident and the accompanying press pandering from the Earth Alliance, with further statements expected within the hour. Though the Black Hand's contract details are classified and no hard copy was recovered, it is fairly obvious that the only persons in need of a mass driver are the Earth Alliance. It has been an unstated but understood caveat of the treaties that any nation on Earth, with the exception of the Atlantic and Eurasian Federations, may call upon Mendel for dropship service at going contract rates. Several nations have taken advantage of this service, namely the USSA for food exports and Orb for material imports. The Earth Alliance primary member states are excluded from this service due to the rampant and uncontained presence of Blue Cosmos in said nations, I will not risk multi-billion-c-bill Dropships over potentially hostile territory. Therefore, the only nation that has a logical need for mass drivers is the Earth Alliance, because they singularly lack any other way to supply their lunar military bases. The claim that Mendel has any need for the Gigafloat is so obviously false that it does not even bear mentioning; why would Mendel need a mass-driver when we have no land holdings on the planet below and Mendel has thirty Dropships at our beck and call?"

There was a brief assent to Wayne's point. "The Crimson Guard sold their lives dearly in defense of the Junk Guild and their autonomy, and the Black Hand did the same in service of their employer's whims. I salute their actions as a soldier, though as an administration officer my only position is that I am thankful that the Junk Guild Gigafloat facility retains its autonomy. This battle was a battle between opposed mercenary factions and nothing more. I suggest this matter be left solely at that."

-x-x-x-

(26 December CE 71, 0600 hours UTC)

(Warship _Ophanim_)

Natarle Badgiruel had to admit she liked this turn of fate. In months or years past, all she had to look forward to was being under the command of someone who didn't know jack-shit about naval warfare (Azraiel), or someone whom was indecisive about who to fight (Ramius). The former was dead and the latter now served Orb, a curious turn of fate that had not really turned up at her inquiries. Natarle suspected some of that was Admiral Sutherland, the rest was the fact that she held intrinsic intelligence value in having survived the wrath of the Magi.

The battle on the Gigafloat in the wee hours of Christmas Eve was simply reminder to Natarle, the awesome striking power and hard carapace of Magi forces writ visible even in their dedicated land systems. Her officers had gone over a four-hour analysis of the battle in step-by-step detail, understanding everything that could be gleaned from the reports and footage shown. By the time everything was said and done, her officers were convinced that two trinaries of Omnimechs could theoretically bring down an _Archangel_-class ship if circumstances favored them. Which result didn't surprise Natarle; she figured that a trinary of Fireball aerofighters could do the same in conventional engagement.

As of the day after Christmas, the only standing question was 'will they, won't they' in pertaining to the extremely sharp statement from Mendel. Natarle was surprised that the Star Admiral had been that vehement in ripping the Earth Alliance (and specifically Chairman Riseman) up one side and down the other. The hell of it was, Captain Badgiruel agreed with Mendel by the numbers: they had no need for the Gigafloat, they had lucrative contracts with the Junk Guild they wanted to maintain and the Earth Alliance had a track record of doing things just exactly like what they had tried doing to the Gigafloat. Mercenary or not, the Black Hand formation had been operating at the behest of the Earth Alliance, even if nobody could find the contract.

Thus Natarle was putting on combat drills every six hours, with brief stand-downs in between to simulate the real exigencies of battle. If ZAFT had not given the _Archangel_ much in the way of break, for sure the Magi would do far less to the _Ophanim_. Thankfully, the _Ophanim_ was capable of providing full simulations on just about everything except battle damage, which made training both more rapid and more comprehensive. They would need it, in her opinion; the Magi didn't give second chances to dumb enemies, as she had found out once prior.

"Conn, Sensors, four marks, blue 22 mark 8. Classify contacts as Fireball Omnifighters, unknown configurations. Time to intercept 6-5 seconds."

"Helm roll fifteen degrees right and twenty degrees down, weapons load all missile tubes with Wombat missiles. Activate CIWS and set to special-auto, prioritize enemy missiles over fighters. Sensors, power up ECM and prepare to jam all enemy radar sets. Chief of the boat, sound collision."

"Wombats loaded," the Weps officer replied seconds later.

"Time to intercept?"

"5-0 seconds, ma'am," the Sensors officer replied.

"Launch Wombats, deploy Valiants for follow-up attacks. Sensors, any shipping contacts nearby?"

"Negative, no shipping in the area," the Sensors officer replied.

"Conn, Radio, we have incoming land-line transmission from fleet headquarters," the Radio officer replied, briefly reminding them that they were still tied alongside in Ptolemaeus awaiting final determination on what was to happen.

"Missiles have struck enemy craft, I show two kills and one damaged. Remaining fighters are still closing." Three kills out of twelve missiles was about what Natarle expected in sim, though she had no real clue as to whether or not they would be effective against the real deal.

"Radio, read that message," Natarle ordered.

"Message is to all fleet units at Ptolemaeus base. The Earth Alliance central command has determined that Mendel is a rogue state and requires pacification. All naval forces will prepare for deploy within 24 hours to move to Mendel and bring said state compliant."

Natarle sighed. She expected as much, but hearing it was less than friendly. This was the moment of truth, and there wasn't enough in the cupboard to get the job done. "Do they really, honestly believe that?" The weapons officer asked nobody in particular.

"Someone, somewhere believes that." Natarle sighed again. "I highly doubt those orders came from inside our command structure. Admiral Sutherland knows better than to risk an attack with only one _Archangel_-class ship. These orders are coming from way above the Joint Chiefs of Staff."

"And that can only be from the Chairman, _El Presidente_ Riseman himself. So now what?" From the sensors officer, Natarle could not figure out if it was sarcastic or real.

"You prepare for war. I go to prepare to speak to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. If I'm lucky, I'll be back and maybe we can survive this. If not, do you jobs as I trained you and maybe your new commander won't get you killed."

-x-x-x-

(26 December CE 71, 0900 hours UTC)

The buck did not stop at the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Natarle made it no farther than Admiral Sutherland's office by way of the laser-line communication system that the Earth Alliance had just established parallel to Mendel's commercial system.

"Sir, we both know how this will end," Natarle declared coldly.

"I know, I know, Natarle; unfortunately this is from NCA. We can't dodge it. I have a skull session with the JCOS scheduled for 1100 hours, and I'll plead my case then, but the problems are only beginning," William Sutherland looked even more grim than his tone suggested.

"We can't dodge, can we?" Natarle asked after a moment of silence.

"No, this is political, I don't think we have an option to dodge," Sutherland replied.

"Wonderful," Natarle groused. "How do we do this?"

"Single conventional strike, overwhelm them by the numbers," Sutherland replied. "Your ship, _Ophanim_, is going to be the fleet flag and primary striking platform. I wish we had _Seraphim_ active as well, but without the Lohengrin cannons it is useless to us." Sutherland was referring to a delay in getting the last few parts from the manufacturer to complete the cannons. "Provided we are ordered to continue, you will be departing lunar SDIZ no later than 2000 tomorrow with the maximum available fleet forces."

"Understood," Natarle said bleakly. It would be about two weeks flight time to Mendel, which journey she had made before, and then the inevitable battle. Undoubtedly, they would know the Earth Alliance was coming, which meant that Natarle would be walking into a trap in no uncertain terms. "Restrictions?"

"None at all," Sutherland replied immediately. "The only thing not on the table is nuclear warfare. Since I don't want to experience firsthand how easily Mendel can hollow out the Ptolemaeus crater back to its natural state, we are not going to provoke a nuclear incident with them. Keep it conventional, and ensure the other forces keep it conventional, my orders."

"Sir, I doubt any of the Senior Captains are going to listen to me, regardless of what you say," Natarle replied.

Sutherland sighed. "Very well, on my authority, you are now a brevet-rank Rear Admiral. I'll have the paperwork in the system within the hour." The shock on Natarle's face was severe and immediate. She had jumped three ranks in two months, now a fourth rank in just under three months. Such promotions usually didn't bode well for the officer in question. "I know, it's a long jump from Lieutenant Commander, and a farther jump from plebe summer back at Annapolis."

"That's the truth, sir," the freshly-frocked Rear Admiral Badgiruel replied.

"Well, the Brits had an old lament for these kinds of things: 'Here's to bloody wars and sickly seasons,' if I remember it correctly. You aren't stepping over someone's grave for the rank, but I hope you don't have to step over anyone's grave to get the job done."

Natarle snorted. "What are my parameters?"

"Move to and engage. Attempt to sink enemy shipping priority; do not, repeat, do not try to force the line unless you have mobile forces superiority. If you can establish control of the near-space field, you may attempt to force entry on Mendel itself. If you are stalemated in the outer air battle, maneuver on the enemy as best as possible and kill 'em off by the numbers. If you find that you cannot establish force superiority over the enemy, you are authorized to retreat to preserve fleet integrity."

"And what happens when I will need to retreat?" Natarle asked.

"I figured you'd ask that," Sutherland replied. "Best case, we take some heat but we can present objective circumstances to cover our butts. If you can sink any one of their ships or cripple it, even losing half the fleet is a small price to pay and may be worth an extra promotion if I can swing it right. I think the Joint Chiefs finally realized what we are facing due to this Black Hand incident, so I don't think they have too high a list of expectations on this one."

"Worst case?" Natarle asked.

"Worst case, two months from now we will both be looking for new jobs."

-x-x-x-

(26 December CE 71, 1000 hours UTC)

For Admiral Sutherland, the communications lag between the Joint Chiefs in NORAD (**NOR**th **A**merican Aerospace **D**efense, Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado) and his present location (Heavens Base, Reykjavik, Iceland) was a matter of hundredths of seconds as opposed to four seconds from the moon to Heavens Base. That only meant that the anger translated faster and more furious between the parties.

"Look, Admiral, I've read your reports. Multiple times. I even have a copy of your main naval analysis and recommendations right here," and the Joint Chief of the Navy held up copy 9 of 32 of said report. "The problem is, as you so artfully put it, 'political dunderheads'. I was the first at bat to try and quash this abortion of an operation concept, and even I got shot down."

"I hope they realize that only if God intervenes on our behalf will we have anything approaching a victory scenario," Sutherland said.

"They don't," the Joint Chief of the Mobile Forces replied deadpan. "They don't see the objective circumstances, all they see is a small and numerically insignificant barricade to their goals."

"And those are what?" Sutherland asked.

"You are Blue Cosmos just the same as we are, Sutherland," the JC of Naval operations replied. "I don't think it is hard to imagine."

"Indeed sir, I even have my BC ID card," and Sutherland pulled it out of his pocket to show the camera link. "I don't expect this card to stop incoming shitloads of ordinance, which is exactly what will happen if we follow through with this 'abortion' as you phrased it, sir."

"All right, you've made your point, Sutherland," the Joint Chief of Staff, Earth Alliance military replied. "We have to go through with this, no two ways about it. What will happen?"

"Honest answer, or do I dance?" Sutherland asked.

"Save the two-step for the unenlightened. I want the real deal."

"We go out there, we get the shit kicked out of us, what's left of the fleet comes home in pieces. End of story."

"Numbers," the JC of the Navy requested.

"Eighty percent losses as a floor figure. Higher if God doesn't intervene in our favor. Slightly lower if my force commander pulls out before they are decisively engaged or trapped. We get a good look at Mendel from a distance, but we definitely don't get close enough to damage the colony and definitely not close enough to storm it."

"Expected results?" the same JC replied.

"Worst case, mobile forces casualties, not even enough to knock them below the maximum allowed in the treaty. Best case, Badgiruel can sink one of their ships but pays for it with the _Ophanim_."

"You don't think _Ophanim_ is coming back?" the JC of the Eurasian Mobile Forces requested.

"They took out _Dominion_ and _Thrones_ faster than Bruce Lee took down Chuck Norris in Way of the Dragon." Sutherland was exaggerating, but the principle held in all their minds. Back when this collection of motley officers had been in the academy, Way of the Dragon was a popular classic movie for the class; they all knew what he was talking about, and what he intended as the inevitable result. "When we do this, we'll be marching right into an ambush, regardless of how careful we are about it. The first target on their list will be anything capable of punching significant holes in the ships: 105s with Launcher packs, Buster Daggers, _Agamemnon_ and _Archangel_-class ships. After that, they'll move on to the 'lesser' forces, such as 105 daggers with other packs, Duel Daggers, Strike Daggers, _Nelson_ and _Drake_ ships. One thing you can't accuse Mendel of is being stupid, and they will start with the most threatening units we have."

"I read you, Sutherland," the JC of Eurasian forces replied. "I have a special unit at Arzachel right now, Strike Daggers led by a Hyperion Gundam. I don't think it will help much, but I'll have him come over to your side for the op."

"Anything is better than nothing," Sutherland replied.

"Also, we'll deploy some other new units with you as well, including the Cosmo Grasper prototypes and a spare Strike Gundam. Do what you can, but if you have to walk away, do it. This conflict is going to drag out for years, maybe even decades. We can take some losses, but the less the better for when we finally do get into it."

"Understood, sir. Anything else?"

"Aye, tell Rear Admiral Badgiruel that it will be a permanent promotion if she can sink any of their warships."

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

This is where the echoes of the past battles and present policies catch up to everyone. It will be messy for everyone, trust me on that.

First off, Orb's espionage ring is beginning to pay dividends, even if it is not necessarily the spies that are actually delivering the payouts. You see herein that they now have everything they need to begin building their own small Dropships except for the fusion chambers for the engines...and Mendel is willing to give out such 'low tech' devices as that without restraint. The why is simple: it would take decades for even ZAFT to reverse-engineer those fusion chambers into something small enough and reasonably safe for use in a Mobile Suit, since a Dropship's fusion engine is massive and redundantly overprotected, to the point of safety over efficiency. This won't stop anyone from trying, but decades the parties do not have.

The major departure from the logic of the day is in the new pilots and in the mercenary battle. Two elite Newtype pilots scrapping it: Neo Roanoke of the Earth Alliance against Cole James of ZAFT, and they both lost it to the Mobile Armor forces of Diamond Element. Had they been driving better machines than a GINN High Maneuver and 105 Dagger, that may have turned out slightly different. READ THIS BEFORE FLAMING: I know Neo's origins in Gundam SEED Destiny. The fact that he exists here as a separate person is VERY deliberate on my part. Where he came from and how he got there will be covered a little more in detail in the opening of chapter 20, so save the fire and brimstone for that time, please.

As to Mu, you saw Captain Ramius in this chapter and now serving as an adviser to the Orb military, so you can probably guess Mu isn't far off. He'll get a short stint toward the end of next chapter, and a good load of action in the second set, rest assured.

The mercenary battle was the fun part, in my opinion. The Magi and Serpent Tail, outnumbered and outgunned, against a mercenary force from the Earth Alliance, confined in a somewhat fragile space with terrain obstacles and a helluva prize at the end of the rainbow for the victor. Such is the life of a proper mercenary in the tales of Battletech and the Multimage Chronicles; warfare is not just confined to the regular armies, after all. The brutality of the battle is the main thing that sticks out for me after the reread: the amount of abuse the Blood Asp took would have killed nearly a company of Mobile Suits, but by the numbers that is how it would go down. Battlemechs are engineered to take a metric assload of pounding and still keep fighting. Many is the game of Battletech where my team walked away from the battle with half their 'mechs blown off and damage to the rest, such is the nature of mechanized warfare as I execute it. Woody got lucky that they didn't cause more damage to the Blood Asp, and is also lucky that James never operated with auto-eject active in his machine. The rest of the unit paid for it, though: three dead pilots, one undamaged Omnimech and two that can be rebuilt (with a few months worth of repairs and a shitload of duct tape) is a serious loss to any formation.

If the artillery seems skewed in this match, well, welcome to the real world. What James said during the battle is the cold, hard truth that Gundam ignores: artillery is the queen bitch of the battlefield, end of story. Artillery has been the deciding factor of every major battle and campaign since the industrial revolution (1850). He who has the most of the best guns on the battlefield is usually the winner of that battlefield. United States military doctrine since WW1 has been reliant on the power, accuracy, and speed of their cannons, and in very few cases have enemies found ways around the steel rain. Even in losing battles has artillery made it hell for the 'winner' of the conflict. Vietnam is a good example: General Ho Chi Minh put a very high priority on taking out American airpower and artillery forces, because he knew they would tear the VC to shreds if left unchecked. Saddam Hussein got a very good lesson in American and British artillery and airpower doctrine in January 1991, and a repeat lesson in 2004; I daresay you should already know that Saddam no longer rules Iraq, and he had the fourth largest army in the world at the outset of Gulf One. The Communist Chinese Army was bled almost white from artillery and stubborn defenses in Korea in the early 50s. World War 1 was entirely about artillery for the first several years; the tank didn't show up on the battlefield until 1917 and 1918. Nazi Germany was extremely reliant on artillery and close air support to overrun their enemies, more so than their panzer divisions (though you won't read that one in a history book). The list goes on; I hope I don't need to explain this any further to ye readers. There are multiple forums on FFN that cover this topic, and how Gundam doesn't quite get the artillery question right. If you want to read our old arguments on the subject, message me and I'll direct you to the right material.

As to the oncoming Earth Alliance operations, well, if you think they're going to get cut to ribbons, think again. I have some surprises in store that are going to cause bricks to be crapped on all sides of this conflict. Of course, far be it from me to spoil surprises, so you'll just have to read through when that comes along. For now, I have a Battletech TRO below for the 105 Dagger, with the TRO for the more generic Strike Dagger to show up at the end of next chapter.

NEXT UP: It is often said that history pivots on the most perverse of axis. This being relatively true, the outcome of the Earth Alliance campaign to 'pacify' Mendel will have a very perverse outcome for many years to come. Of course, this fate won't stop everyone from giving it a very good harangue before someone calls time out...

* * *

Review Replies: Six reviews, six reviews, a far better fate than even I expect. Much thank you all for the continued motivation to do the really weird things...

**Nightblader1021**: I forget what I originally told you in answer to your question, but the answer comes down to a simple problem: the Earth Alliance puppetmasters are essentially old-world aristocracy, persons for which the words 'entitlement' and 'peasants' are still in common use. To them, even a whole state such as the Earth Alliance is nothing more than a tool to which they use to maintain power in their world, and they will do anything to maintain that power. Mendel is their big problem as of right now: if the Jumpship project becomes reality, they will have no way to maintain effective control over Orb or ZAFT, and the loss of that control is viewed as a personal failure and dishonor by the heads of LOGOS. Therefore, Mendel has to be squelched. I hope that is clear enough an explanation.

**Frasermage**: If the RE HOME operated planetside, I'm not sure in what media it did so. I haven't seen it yet. As to Mendel's opinion on the Forbidden Blue and underwater MS, they respect them but don't really play in that environs by default. As to the Blue Frame Second L with Lohengrin, well, the Magi have a deep-seated respect for anything that can turn a warship into a smoking hulk. That also means that they tend to pay real close attention to something like that when it shows up on the battlefield...

**Alex Yamato**: Alicia's true combat debut will be in the next chapter, and for good reason. I'll save the surprise there for that chapter, of course. The stage is set here in this chapter, so you can guess her machine is going to get a workout :)

**Deathzealot**: I am in awe of your technical acumen. As to the EA having the Cornelius, I would like ep numbers and timestamps if possible, that is an interesting fact if true. I thought the EA logistics was handled with the Marseille III class. Still and all, a very good run-down, and you may see some of that info creep its way into the stories to come. On the length, now that I know how to properly express myself and my thoughts, and how to weave one hellish battle, this is what you get.

**Rickrolled**: I am always interested in Spec Forces units. If you have ideas, I want to hear them. PM me if you have more, I'll see about working the designs in with someone's side.

**Necroblade**: Much thank you again for the beta work. Your efforts are probably the only thing keeping this monster from collapsing due to its own inconsistencies sometimes...

Flay will get a real workout in the next set, for now she is just a bit player but she will come alive in the second story. I'll save the details for that time.

The Clyne Faction have not gone silent, and you will probably see them hard at work early in the second set of the Jokers Wild, but for now they are silent and unobtrusive, watching and waiting for the proper time to act. As to Gundam 00, I have not made any official determination on that series yet and it is not considered canon to the MMC in any fashion. You won't see any of the GN gundams in Magi / Mendel deploy, and you may not see them in this story for some time.

Well, here is a round for a few of the old favorites, Dearka is shuffling papers for LNC Engineering while his girlfriend does photojournalism, Mu I covered above, Murrue is now consulting for Orb, and I'll save some of the others for a surprise for another day.

Keep one thing in mind, my friend: When I rewrite part of a history, the bulk of the succeeding timeline **will** change. Shin's family still got wiped out at Onogoro (the _Mjolnr_ had just arrived as that battle was being concluded) but it is likely that the battle over the Atlantic between Athrun/Meyrin versus Shin and Rey will happen is pretty close to zero. And, keep in mind that if it does happen things will nto go so easily for Shin since Athrun still has the Justice and Kira probably will have the Freedom at that time (It is still in overhaul at this time).

Your spiel has merit and is probably the most logical analysis of the relationship woes of Gundam SEED Destiny, but keep in mind that the two were actively wedged apart by a certain manipulative bastard Yuna. Without that wedge effect here (the present Cagalli would rip Yuna's crank off and beat him to death with it should he try), things are likely to turn out a bit different in that department. I won't deny that there will be trouble – plenty of it, in fact – but so far things are on track. Where this train leads, only the dice know.

THNAK YOU ONE AND ALL FOR THE REVIEWS! The insanity continues for one last chapter, then I take a break and prepare my material for the second set of the Jokers Wild.

* * *

The Gripe Sheet: My only outstanding gripe is a technical matter, mostly relating to the TRO for the Cornelius-class ship. Nothing major in the story. Thanks due to **Deathzealot** for the technical update.

* * *

Footnotes:

(1): **Stern** refers to the rear of the ship (as opposed to the **Bow** (front) of the ship).

(2): **Boot-To-Mech** is an old Magi aphorism for Anti-'mech swarm attacks, whereby Armored Infantry or Battle Armor will climb up a 'mech or Mobile Suit and attack the machine from point blank range. This tactic is extremely devastating on any form of mechanized unit, given the power of infantry-carried weapons and the relative weakness of these machines to close-in demolition attacks. This phrasing is related to **Boot-To-Ass**, which is commonly used to describe close-quarters battle with other infantry, and **Boot-To-Tread** for swarm attacks against ground armor vehicles (tanks, armored cars, etc). For Armored Marines, a variant of this name exists for boarding enemy shipping: **Boot-To-Squid**. In the highly unlikely but theoretically possible event that Armored Marines end up swarming VTOL craft or fighters, this is commonly called **Boot-To-Wing**, **Flying Holy Shit Kung-Fu**, or just plain crazy.

(3): Battletech 4th Edition, Maximum Tech artillery rules: Long Tom and Arrow IV HE rounds have a 3-hex radius (5 hex diameter from point of impact). Under my scaling for writing, this translates to 500 meters diameter. It only gets worse from there, however: Cluster rounds have a five-hex radius, which translates to 900 meters swath of destruction (roughly equivalent to an IRL cluster bomb).

(4): This rule exists in any version of Battletech: Any more than 20 damage will force a piloting roll check, with every twenty points beyond the first 20 adds an extra +1 to the to-hit roll to stay standing. Since James took 72 points of damage (two missiles from the Buster Dagger (15 each), one missile from the Long Dagger (10), the 175mm Rocket-propelled grenade (20), and 12 points of LB-X style damage from the Gun Launcher), that amounts to a +2 penalty. James native piloting skill is 3, and he rolled a 4, so he hit the ground. Once he hit, two more pilot checks occur: one to check for damage from the fall, and one to check for pilot injury. The damage check came up 10, so no extra damage to the 'mech from the fall, but the pilot roll for pilot injury came back 2, so he didn't dodge a serious impact. Woody, not accustomed to piloting yet and the vagaries of falling 'mechs, rolled a 5 when his piloting skill is only 7, so he took damage as well.

(5): Ammo explosion, directed away from the rest of the machine by **CASE** (**C**ellular **A**mmunition **S**torage **E**quipment). The Buster Dagger managed to cook off two and a partial tons of LRMs in this location. It wasn't pretty, but it saved the rest of the mech from shredding out...

* * *

TRO SECTION: Today I cover the extremely complicated but versatile 105 Dagger. Included are rules for all the CE 71 Striker Packs as well, so you can throw this monster into a Battletech game fully loaded and ready to kick ass.

BattleMech Technical Readout

Custom* Weapons

**Type/Model**: GAT-01A1 '105' Dagger

**Tech**: Mixed Tech / 3060

**Config**: Biped BattleMech

**Rules**: Level 3, Standard design

**Mass**: 55 tons

**Chassis**: Standard

**Power Plant**: 275 High-cap Energy Battery

**Walking Speed**: 54.0 km/h

**Maximum Speed**: 86.4 km/h

**Jump Jets**: 4 Standard Jump Jets

**Jump Capacity**: 120 meters

**Armor Type**: Standard (See rules below)

**Armament**:  
2 Strike Pack Hardpoints*  
2 Beam Sabers*  
5 Fuel Tanks* (400 points space thrust or 800 points jump thrust)  
2 Anti-Missile Systems(C)  
2 Light Machine Guns(C)

**Manufacturer**: National Defense Industry Association  
**Location**: Atlantic Federation  
**Communications System**: NDIA Valkyrie-1 CS  
**Targeting & Tracking System**: NDIA Valkyrie-1 TTS

==Overview:==

As a successor to the X105 Strike, the GAT-01A1 Dagger simplified said Gundam's costly manufacturing processes into a mass-producible and efficient package that would continue to see service as late as CE 74, proving its viability as a weapons platform even then. With the right pilot and Striker Pack, a GAT-01A1 Dagger (called the '105 Dagger' by the Earth Alliance forces) can bring swiftly lethal capabilities to the battlefield.

==Capabilities:==

The 105 Dagger is the base machine to which many other Dagger variants were adapted, and to which many sets of add-on equipment can be added. The later variants of the dagger series, namely the Long Dagger/Duel Dagger, Buster Dagger, Slaughter Dagger, N Dagger N, and Dagger L machines are directly derived from the frame of the humble 105 Dagger. This commonality of origin gives the Earth Alliance some amount of commonality of parts between the machines, allowing for simplified logistics and ease of field maintenance at least on the inside of the machines in question. Also due to the commonality of systems, the arsenal on the machines are somewhat cross-compatible among the later variants of the Daggers, though are not backwards-compatible with the original 105 Dagger system. Thus, while (in theory) a Dagger L could carry both its standard beam rifle and the GAU-8M2 machine gun commonly used by the 105 Dagger, the latter machine could not use the beam rifle from the newer variants without extensive modification.

In terms of performance and defensive capability, the 105 Dagger is a major step forward compared to the stopgap Strike Dagger machines predominantly in use by the Earth Alliance during CE 71. Even without a Striker Pack, the 105 Daggers have increased speed and deploy time over the Strike Daggers; adding a Strike Pack only increases their range, maneuverability, and staying power.

For defense, the 105 Dagger uses a modified version of the laminated armor in use on the Archangel-class ships, which when combined with a thin layer of ablative heat-resistant gel is resistant to multiple strikes of beam weapons. Though not a true copy of the X105 Strike Gundam, the 105 Dagger is mildly resistant to ballistic and missile fire though not to the extent of its progenitor.

The hard-mount weapons on the 105 Dagger are mostly meant for close-in work, not as a primary method of offense. The (arguably) longest-range static weapons on the machine are the Igelstellung II CIWS guns mounted in the head, though these are more commonly used to intercept missiles and not as a form of offense. For melee combat, a pair of ES02 Beam Sabers are hard-mounted on the hips of the machine, and are hand-carried in use; this replaces the Armor Schneider knives of the original X105 Strike Gundam. The most unusual feature of the machine is the paired 12.7mm (.50-caliber) anti-infantry guns mounted in the feet of the machine. Though of limited use against armored targets, the inclusion of machine guns in the feet provides a pilot with a defensive measure against infantry forces that may attempt to swarm the machine.

The primary method of offense by the 105 Dagger is its capability to mount Strike Packs. Each pack comprises a backpack module and optionally shoulder-mounted accessories and/or a different shield from normal. The 105 Dagger specifically retains the capability to mount and utilize any strike pack designed for the original X105 Strike Gundam, allowing for a wide-range of mission-specific options for the pilot. Details on the Strike Packs are covered below. A notable exception to this principle is the fact that the 105 Dagger cannot use the standard beam rifler carried by the X105, and instead uses a GAU-8M2 55mm Machine Gun in place of the standard beam rifle.

==Battle History:==

The 105 Dagger was little heralded during the Operation Elvis campaign, but instead saw more action on the ground than it did in space. The enhanced striking power and mission variability of the 105 Dagger made it the weapon of choice for Earth Alliance commanders when units were available and with the right striker pack for the mission.

==Variants:==

As listed above, the Buster Dagger, Duel Dagger, N Dagger N, and Dagger L are technically variants of the 105 Dagger, though are more appropriately considered separate units due to their varied arsenals and capabilities. See the Striker Pack notes below for modifications pertaining to different mission equipment.

==Notable 'Mechs & MechWarriors:==

**Morgan Chevalier** (Moonlight Mad Dog)  
Morgan Chevalier, a former Eurasian tank commander, is one of the few surviving Earth Alliance pilots capable of using Gunbarrel weapons. Initially the pilot of a simple Linear Tank, he later promoted up to the rare combination weapon platform 105 Dagger with Gunbarrel Striker pack, which gave him more offensive capability than the old Moebius Zero system and arguably more combat capability than all but the most advanced ZAFT units. He would conduct battle several times during Operation Elvis against some of ZAFT's most dangerous pilots, and would also lose one of the rare Gunbarrel Striker packs in battle against rogue pilot Canard Pars. After the first war, he would use the 105 + Gunbarrel combination once more to good effect, this time against former comrade Edward Harrelson in an abortive battle in low orbit. Edward failed to cause significant damage to Chevalier's 105 Dagger before he was drawn back into the atmosphere.

==Deployment==

The 105 Dagger is less common than the Strike Dagger, but would go on to replace the latter machine in the inter-war years. It would be supplanted in late CE 72 by the Dagger L, an upgraded version of the 105 Dagger.

==BATTLETECH SPECIAL RULES==

This machine conforms to the Battletech level three rules for hand-held weapons, with one notable modification: the weapon and shield used by the 105 Dagger are single-arm weapons only, and conform to the firing arc for their respective arms. When rolling a center-torso hit against the 105 Dagger, roll an additional 1d6 for the carried weapons. On a roll of 1, the right-hand weapon takes a hit, on a roll of 6 the shield takes the hit (and the center torso takes no damage unless the shield is penetrated). Additionally, this arrangement does not block weapons fire from the torso locations.

When determining damage from weapons, all ballistic, missile, falling and melee damage is resolved normally, all energy weapon and beam saber damage is treated differently. For the first hit from an energy weapon against a given location, the damage is resolved normally; every successive hit against that same location the damage is increased by 50 percent (round damage up on ½ point). This reflects the laminated armor resilience compared to standard mobile suit armor, but also reflects the disadvantage this armor holds when compared to Battlemech armor.

For aerotech use, the 105 Dagger has thrust MP of 4, no flanking MP, and carried 5 tons of fuel (400 points). Roll all hits against the 105 Dagger as per normal Battletech rules (ergo a shot from behind would strike the rear torso, shots from the sides affect the given side, etc). Fuel should be recorded in the margin of the record sheet, along with weapon and striker pack information.

GAU-8M2 Machine Gun: Treat as a Light AC/5 for purposes of range and damage value. The weapon has a magazine of 20 rounds (1 ton ammo) and extra magazines may be mounted on the hip armor (up to 4 mags). The weapon is considered to be protected by 1 ton of armor (16 points) which follows the above rule for determining damage from energy weapons. If using a Striker Pack, the GAU-8M2 may be racked on the rear armor for storage while the pilot uses a different hand-held weapon; in such a case, if the MS takes a hit to the center torso (rear) while the weapon is stored, roll 1D6: on a roll of 1 or 6, the weapon absorbs the damage up to the remaining armor value before damage is recorded against the CTR location. COST: 170,000 C-bills, BV addition 67. Magazines can be reloaded during the movement phase with the expenditure of 1 MP and the machine cannot run or jump during that turn.

Earth Alliance Hyper Bazooka: Treat as a Thunderbolt-15 (from Maximum Tech) for purposes of range and damage. This weapon has a magazine of 8 rounds (2 tons) ammunition; extra magazines may be carried on the hip armor (up to 4). The weapon is considered to be protected by 2 tons of armor (32 points) which follows the above rule for determining damage from energy weapons. If using a Striker Pack, the GAU-8M2 may be racked on the rear armor for storage while the pilot uses a different hand-held weapon; in such a case, if the MS takes a hit to the center torso (rear) while the weapon is stored, roll 1D6: on a roll of 1,2 or 6, the weapon absorbs the damage up to the remaining armor value before damage is recorded against the CTR location. COST: 435,000 C-bills; BV addition 281.

Beam Saber: Treat as a sword attack for to-hit rules, but with 15 points damage instead of the sword's normal damage. When fighting against another beam saber equipped unit, attacks with the beam saber are treated as opposed action checks using the piloting skills of the two pilots. Both pilots will roll an unmodified piloting roll, and the margin of success (or margin of failure) determines the outcome. If one pilot fails the roll, he takes a hit from the enemy's beam saber and causes no damage himself. If both pilots fail their rolls, no damage is inflicted. If both pilots win their rolls, the pilot with the higher Margin of Success (the higher number above the required to-hit) inflicts damage on the enemy. In the case of a MoS tie, neither pilot causes damage.

Shield: Mounted on the left arm, the shield provides a defensive blocking and offensive shield-check action for the Mobile Suit. At the beginning of the weapons attack phase, a unit with a shield may declare what hex-side the shield is blocking (one hex side, left arm firing arc only). All weapons fire entering through that hexside is subject to a piloting skill roll for the MS pilot; a successful roll means the shield took the hit instead of the underlying Mobile Suit. Failed rolls strike the MS as normal. The shield is rated to take up to 160 points of damage, though the shield follows the rules for Hardened Armor when counting damage, does not take double damage from energy weapons, and up to 60 points of beam rifle, beam saber and PPC damage is ignored per turn (due to magnetic coating on the shield). Once the shield takes 160 points cumulative damage (after the hardened armor bonus), it is considered destroyed and all further strikes against the MS follow normal rules. A pilot may drop the shield and/or pick up another shield from a different unit, provided it is a friendly unit or in the case of an enemy unit has been disabled or destroyed in some fashion. When performing charging or punching attacks with the shield, add a +1 penalty to the to-hit roll and apply any damage to the shield instead of the carrying MS. COST: 300,000 C-bills, BV addition of 480

==STRIKER PACK EFFECTS==

AILE STRIKE: The Aile Strike provides an extra Jump MP of 4 in atmosphere and an extra 2 MP in space flight. The Striker Pack confers an additional 3 tons of fuel to the machine for space flight, and fuel is consumed at a rate of 1 point per 2 MP of jump in atmosphere. The Striker Pack has a total of 3 tons of armor (48 points) and hits to the rear of the machine (any rear torso location) will strike the pack first. The two beam sabers mounted on the Aile Strike conform to the beam saber rules listed above and can be used by the 105 Dagger. BV ADDITION: 162.

SWORD STRIKE: The Sword Strike does not provide a jumping or thrust bonus, but adds three weapons. The Beam Boomerang is treated as a Beam Saber with the range brackets 3-6-9, and has two chances to strike a target (once on the way out, once on the way back). Note that this weapon will scatter as per Swarm LRMs and may strike friend or foe. Once it hits a single target, all damage is applied to that target and the attack ends. The Schwert Gewehr anti-ship sword causes 50 points of damage and is treated as a clubbing attack with a +1 to-hit penalty. The Panzer Eisen rocket anchor causes 5 damage to the target it hits, has a range of 4-8-12, and will lock onto a target machine in the same fashion as a claw from the Tactical Handbook (ergo, once struck the controlling player chooses when to let go). When so grappled, a target machine may not move away from the 105 Dagger unless the machine is 1 weight class or more heavier than the 105 Dagger, in which case the 105 Dagger must make a piloting skill roll to avoid being dragged to the ground (or dragged along with the enemy machine when in space). The backpack extension for the Sword Strike has 1 ton of armor (16 points), the left shoulder extension has 1 ton armor (16 points) and the left arm extension takes damage first on a left-arm hit 1d6 roll of 6. The shield/rocket anchor combination follows the shield rules above, except the pilot roll for blocking damage comes with a +2 penalty due to the small size of the shield. BV ADDITION: 350

LAUNCHER STRIKE: The Launcher Strike does not provide a jumping or thrust bonus, but does add an extra ton of fuel to the MS. The three integral weapons to the Launcher Strike are usable at the same time, since two are static-mounted and one requires the left hand only; A shield may be mounted on the right arm of the Launcher Dagger and conforms to all rules above except that the arc used for determining blocks or punches is the right arm. The anti-ship vulcan is treated as an AC/10 with 1 ton of ammo; the paired grenade launchers follow the rules for one-shot Thunderbolt 20 missile launchers from Maximum Tech. The hyper beam cannon (Agni) is a very powerful weapon, and conforms to the following rules: it causes 100 points of standard-scale energy weapon damage, has an atmospheric range bracket of 20-40-60, and has an aerotech range of long (capital). The Agni is not without its drawbacks, however: it is limited to only the forward firing arc, it suffers a +1 to-hit penalty, and has a maximum amount of 30 shots before it runs out of energy (this is negated if the 105 Dagger has a fusion or fission engine). The backpack mount is integral to the Launcher strike, and once the 2 tons of armor (32 points) is penetrated the Agni cannon is rendered unusable. The right-shoulder weapons pod also has two tons of armor and on a hit to the right arm will take damage on a separate 1d6 roll of 5 or 6. BV ADDITION: 4,311. No shit, you read that right: four thousand plus just for the Launcher Strike. That gives a Launcher Dagger a higher BV than two of the classic AS7-D Atlas assault 'mechs. On the other hand, this does give you the weapons capability to seriously damage or destroy anything smaller than a Warship in one shot, so...

LIGHTNING STRIKE: The Lightning Strike provides a +2MP jumping bonus in atmosphere, +1 MP in space and an extra 4 tons of fuel. The only weapon integral to the Lightning Strike is the EM rifle, which follows all rules for a Light Gauss Rifle, has four tons of ammo (hard-mount, no interchangeable magazines), and has three tons of armor (48 points). The Lightning Strike is so large that a missed shot from the front or sides, so long as the miss was only 1 point off a hit, may strike the Lightning Striker pack (roll 1d6 in the case of a near miss, on a 1 or 6 the Lightning Strike takes the hit). BV ADDITION: 249

IWSP STRIKE: The Integrated Weapons Strike Pack is arguably the best pack for anti-MS work, due to its varied arsenal and extensive movement bonuses. The pack provides a +3 Jumping MP bonus and +2 thrust in space, with 5 tons fuel to boot. The pack comes standard with two AC/10s integral (4 tons ammo total), two Light Gauss Rifles (4 tons ammo), and two Anti-ship swords (40 points damage each, resolve as hatchet attack and both can be used if so chosen). The shield comes with a beam boomerang (see the rules for the Sword Strike) and a Rotary AC/2 (3 tons ammo) and follows all shield rules above. The pack has four tons armor value (64 points). BV ADDITION: 1392

* * *

**Type/Model**: GAT-01A1 '105' Dagger  
**Mass**: 55 tons  
**Construction Options**: Fractional Accounting

**Equipment**: (Crits Mass)

**Int. Struct.**: 91 pts Standard (0 5.50)

**Engine**: 275 (Standard) (6 15.50)  
**Walking MP**: 5  
**Running MP**: 8  
**Jumping MP**: 4

**Heat Sinks**: 10 Double (C) [20] (0 .00)

**Gyro**: (4 3.00)

**Torso-Mounted Cockpit, Life Supt., Sensors**: (6 4.00)

**Actuators**: L: Sh+UA+LA+H R: Sh+UA+LA+H

**Armor Factor**: 112 (0 7.00)

**Internal Structure / Armor Value **  
**Head**: 3/9  
**Center Torso**: 18/16  
**Center Torso (Rear)**: 5  
**L/R Side Torso**: 13/12  
**L/R Side Torso (Rear)**: 5  
**L/R Arm**: 9/12  
**L/R Leg**: 13/12

**Weapons and Equipment **  
**Loc, Heat, Ammo, Crits, Mass**

1 Strike Pack Hardpnt*  
RT, 2, 0, 4, 4.00

1 Beam Saber*  
RT, 4, 0, 1, 0.50

3 Fuel Tanks*  
RT, 0, 0, 3, 3.00

1 Strike Pack Hardpnt*  
LT, 2, 0, 4, 4.00

1 Beam Saber*  
LT, 4, 0, 1, 0.50

2 Fuel Tanks*  
LT, 0, 0, 2, 2.00

2 Anti-Missile Systems (C)  
HD, 2, 48, 4, 3.00

(Ammo Locations: 2 HD)

1 Light Machine Gun (C)  
LL, 0, 200, 2, 1.25

1 Light Machine Gun (C)  
RL, 0, (200), 1, 0.25

(Ammo Locations: 1 LT)

4 Standard Jump Jets:  
(see below), 4, 0, 2.00

(Jump Jet Loc: 1 LT, 1 RT, 1 LL, 1 RL)

**TOTALS**:

14 Heat

58 Crits

55.00 Tons

**Crits & Tons Left**: 20, 0.00

**Calculated Factors**:

**Total Cost**: 6,951,181 C-Bills (Dry cost, without armaments or Strike Packs)

**Battle Value**: 811 (Dry BV)

**Cost per BV**: 8,571.12

**Weapon Value**: 82 / 82 (Ratio = .10 / .10) (Dry WV, without arms or Strike Packs)

**Damage Factors**:  
SRDmg = 6;  
MRDmg = 0;  
LRDmg = 0

**BattleForce2**:  
MP: 5, Armor/Structure: 3/5  
Damage PB/M/L: 6/-/-, Overheat: 0  
Class: MM; Point Value: 8


	20. The Art of War

(Legend of the Jokers Wild, Set 1, Chapter 20: The Art of War) (Final chapter of Set 1)

(25 December CE 71, 0700 Hours)

(Gigafloat Mass Driver, eastern docks)

Christmas day would be a day of funeral and loss for many families, inverting the normally joyous 25th of December in minds and hearts all across the Earth Alliance. At the same time it was a day of loss for the Crimson Guard, who paid in the blood of three dead pilots to defend the sovereignty of the Gigafloat.

For Neo Roanoke, formerly of the Eurasian Federation and later of the Black Hand Mercenaries, it hurt just the same as it did for the Crimson Guard. Over half his team had been outright killed in the abortive assault on the Gigafloat, all were veterans of Operation 8.8 and some were veterans of Operation Elvis. He had expected casualties on this campaign; the Magi weren't exactly considered pussies by anyone (smart) on planet and Neo factored that into his plan. He never expected them to be able to take down his fighters so effectively or quickly, which was the big monkey-wrench thrown into his operations plans. Without the air cover, his mobile forces on the ground were sitting ducks for their heavy star of omnimechs and mostly for their artillery section.

The casualties for his side were nasty. Eight survived from the fighters, ten from the Mobile Suits. With 28 killed in action in the mobile forces and another 31 killed on the ships, the Black Hand had 59 deceased to see to, a process to be handled by naval burial at sea. The Crimson Guard would do the same, with their three dead.

The turnout was impressive, to say the least. The Crimson Guard's two uninjured mechwarriors and twenty-five Marines stood as the honor guard for the procession. The entire Black Hand unit stood as the mourners, and indeed some were mourning with the loss of friends, lovers, and relatives. The Gigafloat personnel that could be spared from operations had turned out as well, to pay tribute to both units for their duties executed in days past. Serpent Tail provided overwatch from their Mobile Suits, adding an eerie feeling of battles past to the scene.

The process was somewhat mechanical, but simple. Pallbearers comprised of two Marines (Crimson Guard) and four midshipmen (Black Hand) would take a casket from a conveyor belt normally used for cargo loading on the ships, heft it and take it to the edge of the docks. Waiting for them was a small platform that they would walk out onto, and in this platform was a hole shaped roughly of a casket. Once in place, Neo Roanoke would read off the deceased's name, military rank and position, honors received, home state, and close it with a naval benediction. After that was completed, the pallbearers would lower the casket into the hole and release, which allowed it to drop through into the water.

It started first with a buoy tethered to a metal weight by a long chain. A second buoy stood by to mark the end of the procession, and the buoys themselves had placards attached that would tell of why the buoys were there. Manufactured of titanium (ostensibly the same titanium used in the frames of the salvaged Duel Daggers), the buoys and tethers would last thousands of years in optimal conditions, a fitting tribute to a battle that looked to be the undercard match for the fate of humanity on this planet.

Like any case of human endeavor, Murphy's Law was in effect; the caskets had been disarrayed and out of order, so what was supposed to be an orderly burial by sea turned out to be a random mix of both units. Thankfully, some wit had put a post-it on the side of each casket with the names of each of the deceased, so Neo knew who was who when the time came to speak of their lives. In time, only two were left, one of them being the enemy commander that had stiffed his unit.

"Miko Sizawa, Ensign, Naval Fighter pilot." Neo sighed quietly; he had dated her off-and-on for almost two years. Her life had been brought to an abrupt end when a rack of ATM missiles entered the superstructure of her fighter and blew out the fuel tanks. What was left of the cockpit plowed into a truck hangar on the Gigafloat, though caused no extra casualties. "Recipient of the Purple Heart, twice, once for action in Australia, once for action here. Home state is North Korea, Eurasian Territory, city of Pyongyang. From the eternal ocean from which we came, to the eternal ocean we now consign her mortal remains."

"Atten-hut!" The military personnel came to attention and saluted in their nation's style before the casket was lowered. With it done, the pallbearers moved to pick up the last of the deceased, the Crimson Guard's commander, and the way was cleared for Neo to look directly at the architect of his defeat.

With the sale of the _Hallsey_, Serpent Tail became 2 billion earth-dollars richer; the Kingdom of Scandinavia now had the first ship in what was threatening to become a significant fleet. Likewise, the _Port Arthur_ had turned into a serious money haul for the Crimson Guard, and the USSA now had a new carrier with which to deploy its forces. In the case of Serpent Tail, the money would mostly go into a trust fund for the unit's children to finance higher education and for retirement funds for the mercs. In the case of the Crimson Guard, Neo had found out that the money was being split strangely, with each of the warriors involved getting 1 percent of the cut (20 million Earth-dollars). The other 72 percent to go to the purchase of a small Dropship (Orb would be manufacturing them soon enough) and for the preparation of an academy on the Gigafloat. The academy would be used to train both civilian and military Mobile Suit pilots, and the occasional Battlemech pilot for the unit.

In due time the pallbearers were back, and the last casket was the expected lady. "Tiffany, of the bloodheritage Rommel, Star Commander of Omnimech forces. Recipient of the Radiant Sunburst and Fallen Sword medals for her action on the Gigafloat. Her home world was Dagda, Multimage dimension B-110207, the northern prefecture of Poseidon. Born on a planet of seas, slain on a planet of seas, and now returned to the seas from which we come."

"Atten-hut!" the personnel came to attention once again. The casket was lowered, then the pallbearers came to attention and saluted. "Marines, ready arms!" Seven bolts slammed forward on seven MAR-22C armor assault rifles. "Marines, shoulder arms!" the Marine Star Commander ordered; seven of the massive AAR aimed north at sixty degrees into the sky. "Fire!" Before the burial at sea began, the Marines issued earplugs to all, with the express recommendation that they be used during the rifle honors; after the first shot, anyone who had not put them in groped for the plugs to protect their hearing. "Fire!" Neo noticed from the sound of the shots that the actions of the weapons were also loud and heavy, akin to the bolt on a 12.7mm sniper rifle, where you could hear the action cycle just as loud as the sound of the shot itself. "Fire!" Once the last echoes of the shots faded, the Marines brought their rifles down and racked them, each rifle fitting into a clamp point on the back of their right shoulder plate with the handle of the weapon hanging down about hip-level.

"I don't think you've been told this, but the transport ship for your unit will be here in six hours," the surviving uninjured Crimson Guard pilot said. "My offer still stands, Captain Roanoke."

"Sorry, no," Neo replied immediately. It was a fairly generous offer to join the unit, but joining the Crimson Guard would put him at odds with both its members and the Earth Alliance, not a happy work environment by any interpretation of the phrase. "I'm going to head home and try to clean up some in the Eurasian Federation." By which he didn't mean politically, he meant militarily. Neo did not want to see the Earth Alliance defeated like this again. "I don't think we'll be going head to head again, but I don't think it would be impossible, either."

Rick nodded; he had been expecting the answer all the same, but it was worth a renewed try. "Good luck, then. You'll need it."

-x-x-x-

(27 December CE 71, 1800 Hours)

(Ptolemaeus Military Base)

As the _Ophanim_ shook somewhat, the conning tower began clearing the lunar surface and then the moon began receding behind the ship. "Not the first time I did that," Natarle reminded herself.

"Admiral?" Commander Grey, her CIC duty officer, asked. Natarle ignored the question temporarily.

"Sensors, anything yet?"

"Yeah, definite passes from the _Mjolnr_'s long-range sensor suite. Whether or not they can identify us with N-Jammer interference is doubtable," the sensor officer replied.

"If you have to make mention of that theory, we both can assume it's bullshit," Commander Grey replied coldly. "The Magi went through both sides in Jachin Due, and everyone could tell they were doing it by sensors." He looked at the readings on his own panel. Four blips had occurred in ten seconds, then four blips in five seconds; the latter signaled that the ships were being dwelled on. "Admiral, Mendel's made us. They're hitting us with sensors slightly less than once a second."

"I figured as much," Natarle replied. "Rest of fleet?"

"Forming up now. We'll be ready to go here in about an hour."

"This is where it begins," Natarle replied. "Much as we figured, they know we are coming. All we can do is hope we can overwhelm them."

"That should be simple enough, they can't muster our forces without violating the treaty," the weapons officer replied.

"I underestimated them once by assuming just exactly that, Weps. I don't intend to make that mistake again, but I don't think they'll give us a chance to repeat it, either. Force of numbers doesn't mean jack to Magi; they fought 3500 years of war on the wrong end of 4-to-1 odds and still won. If you want to sit there and tell me we can win over them by sheer numbers, I suggest you correct that misconception or call your relief and get to writing up your resignation."

-x-

Duty on the _Mjolnr_ had changed drastically since the ship had been stood down. The monolithic ship now had more people inside the hull for the express purpose of modifying the jump core than for the purpose of crewing the ship. The bridge duty had been cut down to a quarter of the common personnel for the routine, with only five sensor operators and two weapons officers; the only bridge station still crewed fully was the Maintenance Controllers, and they were busy around the clock with the present operation to gut the jump core.

Commander Ward still commanded the ship, but right now was not part of his duty rotation. As such, the commanding officer of the Conn was a lieutenant who was sitting in the lap of a Warrant Officer at the weapons panel. The sensors officers were politely ignoring what was going on over there, since it wasn't an unheard-of happening on the ship nowadays. Duty on the _Mjolnr_ was more or less a joke again, not by fiat of the Admiralty but of the status of decommissioned rating for the ship. For the most part, a crewmember's actual duties in a duty rotation could be squeezed into less than two hours of the eight they were 'on duty'.

Not all the Sensors operators were screwing around, however. The _Mjolnr_ still had the longest-range sensors of the fleet, and it only took three of the five operators to really pay attention to the major threat zones (one for Artemis, one for the moon, and one for close-in to the colonies). The other two were working on word find puzzles generated by the computer. The 'active' duty would rotate among the five persons every hour until shift relief came in.

"Well, at least they're being less noisy than last week," the Sensors officer for Artemis commented.

"True," the new recruit for the ship's sensors replied. She had joined just after Mendel had been taken over by the Magi, and loved her job. Where else did you get paid the equivalent of 37500 earth-dollars to look at screens and give the occasional orders to Mobile Suit pilots? Basic training only took her a month and a half to test out (she was extremely fit and athletic, but not very well versed in use of firearms or military procedure), and the sensor training was OJT.

"Got a boyfriend?" the older sensor operator asked.

"Had one, he ditched me for some tart before I left Copernicus. Hope he liked the slut, I know she was seeing two other guys at the same time he ditched me."

"The bum will probably wake up one day with the gift that keeps on giving," the elder sensor operator replied.

"Well, here's the gift from the EA that keeps on giving," the new recruit commented. "Conn, you done with the latest from your poor abused boyfriend?" she asked in typical Jokers Wild fashion. Make it as strange as possible, and nobody will comment.

"Yeah, what ya got?" She took a few seconds to stand up and a few more to approach.

"Activity at Luna, launches from Ptolemaeus. Out of range to classify, but if I'm doing the math right it looks like a fleet group forming up. I'd've just noted it and let you keep getting it, but they're maneuvering to join with this fleet here, and that puts almost twenty-five ships in a very small area."

"Yeah, that's not normal, even for the Earth Alliance dunderheads," the Lieutenant replied. "Keep an eye on them. I'll be back in a few minutes. Chief Warrant Indra has the conn temporarily." Warrant Indra was another of the 'death-trapped' old hands of the _Mjolnr_: demoted three times, veteran of twenty years, he knew more about the ship than most the rest of the crew and was fated never to gain rank because of the Admiralty Review. Star Admiral Centara had promoted him to Chief Warrant for actions rendered during the Second of Jachin Due and issued a commendation for his part in the Junius Treaty negotiations, but so far he was not showing much chance to make it to a real officer's rank yet.

Warrant Indra had mysteriously appeared behind the sensors officers, silently, mysteriously, but there nonetheless. Some believed he was part witch, some believed that he was a powerful psionic, but the common explanation was that Indra was descended of both Apache warriors and Ghurka commandos, an excellent pedigree of stealth and sneakiness. His codex backed up the latter, and specifically listed him as unrated for both wizardry and psionic skills. "This is their latest play?"

"Sir?" the new recruit asked.

"They are seriously pissed at us," Indra commented. "We ripped them up one side and down the other over the battle on the Gigafloat. It may have driven those of their command structure already 'mentally unstable' to 'completely over the edge'. They will want to lash out for the insult."

"That is what this is over? We bruised their feelings and now they attack us?" the recruit asked.

"It may be," Indra replied evenly. "They have broken orbit. Plot their course."

The rookie began the process of plotting their course, a simple two-minute venture at this range. The results came out to what both expected: they would come to Mendel in about two weeks. "Looks like they are coming here."

"Figured as much," Indra replied. The sound of the bridge blast doors was indication that the Lieutenant had returned. "Boss, they be coming our way."

"Who is?" The voice of Commander Ward asked. Both the rookie sensors officer and Chief Warrant Officer Indra bolted to attention. "As you were. What's the news of the day?"

"Fleet formed up in lunar orbit and broke course, present thrust pattern suggests they be coming here."

"Where is Lieutenant Wicks?" Commander Ward asked.

"Went to the head a couple minutes ago, Commander," Indra said.

"Can't blame her for that," Commander Ward groused. Both the rookie and the Chief Warrant figured he was looking for a reason to bust her chops, since she tended to be the least efficient of the officers on the ship nowadays. Things still got done, per se, but not at the expected brisk clip of the Commander's rulebook. "I have the Conn."

"Commander Ward has the Conn, aye," Indra replied.

"Radio, Conn, better tell Administration that we're about two weeks from having uninvited guests."

-x-x-x-

(28 December CE 71, 1200 Hours)

(ZAFT Supreme Council)

"This emergency session is now in order," Durandal began. "We will bypass the preamble in the interests of time. Commander Valte, please deliver your presentation."

Commander Valte was one of the few Commanders in ZAFT that fit all three of Durandal's preferences: knows how to lead troops in combat, knows how to analyze new or old methods and processes to apply to modern warfare, and knows that Mendel isn't leaving without a bigass fight. Unfortunately, as per his briefing to be delivered, this was likely to be that one bigass fight for Mendel.

"Yesterday, as of 1800 hours, the Ptolemaeus Military Base disgorged 12 warships, one of those ships being the new _Archangel_-class ship _Ophanim_, and three other _Agamemnon_-class ships as yet unidentified by our intelligence assets. These ships linked up with an orbital guard fleet of ten ships, and the combined task force slipped their orbit as of 1900 hours. Without a doubt, Mendel knows the fleet is moving in their direction, though they likely do not know the orders under which the fleet has sailed."

"They know this how? We just got the intel reports."

"The warship _Mjolnr_ has extremely powerful near-space sensors," Commander Valte replied. "Were it not for our frequent use of N-Jammers, they could probably identify what our pilots are served in the mess hall on our ships. For sure, if we launch a fleet they will know within seconds."

"Okay, we'll disregard their sensor power for now," the Supreme Council member for science and technology said. "What are the Earth Alliance fleet's orders?"

"The Earth Alliance has a finding: Mendel is now declared a rogue state. The Earth Alliance fleet is to move to Mendel, to render compliant and eliminate resistance."

"That's pretty serious," the diplomatic chair replied. "Can they do it?"

"Possibly," Yuri Amalfi replied in a disheartened fashion. "Mendel is no pushover, but they lack the numbers to truly stand toe-to-toe with the Earth Alliance. If the Earth Alliance forces the issue in a war of attrition, Mendel will not survive."

"Will they?" for the answer, all eyes were on Commander Valte.

Valte's answer was automatic. "As they show no activity from Artemis and no fleet operations from the planet, this is not a battle of attrition. The enemy fleet, even comprised of 22 ships and likely centered on the _Ophanim_, lacks the sheer force of numbers to crush Mendel opposition. They are keeping in the strict parameters of the Junius Treaty, to which Mendel has a disadvantage of numbers, yet in all reality the Earth Alliance lacks the necessary forces to do the job."

"So, what are they doing?" Durandal asked.

"I don't know," Valte replied. "Unless their fleet admiral has a death-wish, I cannot reconcile what they are doing or how they intend to do it."

"Could it be a feint, distract Mendel while they hit us or the USSA?" the diplomatic chair asked.

"Unlikely, the cost would be too great to justify such a feint," Valte replied. "Second point against: if this was a feint, we would have indications from other intelligence assets as to what their true operation was."

"Someone else is pulling strings," Chairman Durandal said. Given the looks from the council members, he would have elicited the same reaction had he said 'the crayon is yellow' instead.

"Sir?" Yuri Amalfi asked.

"The problem with the Earth Alliance is someone outside the normal election loop is pulling the strings. A power behind the throne, such as it were. Assuming this is so, please tell me what your thoughts on such a power would be," Durandal requested of Valte. "Commander Joule, I will want your opinion as well."

"Sir," Yzak replied, but did not continue.

"Whoever such a power would be, they would have to be a political animal with little grounding in military matters," Valte replied. "They would have to be connected to Blue Cosmos or some further shadow of an organization, with enough assumed or real influence to push buttons at the highest level of the Earth Alliance. Third, this player would have to have the ability to at least silence a goodly part of the Earth Alliance senate, or have the bulk of them in his pocket. Fourth, he or she would have to have a burning desire to wipe the floor with Mendel."

The room was silent for a few moments. "Your additions, Commander Joule?" Durandal asked.

"Only one addition to Commander Valte's analysis," Yzak replied. "I would look for this person to be either old-world aristocracy or high-end business, or possibly both. First, the National Defense Industry Association is of sufficient influence to push buttons, but none of our intel assets in the NDIA twigged to this operation. Second, this person has to have connections at the highest levels, and that typically means company CEOs and old-world nobility. Third, their motive is going to be simple: Mendel has yanked their influence from their hands and given it to the smaller nations, empowered the beleaguered if you want to phrase it that way. They want that influence back. A possible fourth, though I wager it only fifty-fifty odds, is this person is going to be a megalomaniac and possibly a sociopath. He or she wants power over everyone and everything they can grasp, and they will do whatever it takes to get that power. And the first obstacle to that power, that influence, is Mendel."

"Nuclear attack?" Yuri Amalfi asked in the silence thereafter.

"Possible but unlikely," Yzak responded.

Valte picked up: "They know Mendel has nuclear capabilities well in excess of anything the Earth Alliance can produce. One of the Physalis machines they possess, with just one warhead, can annihilate everything from Trenton, New Jersey to Charlestown, South Carolina, and destroy every piece of glass on the eastern seaboard of the old United States territory, and all that in just one strike. You do not gamble against foes with that kind of power, even if you have reason to believe they would not use those capabilities. Not to mention we do not know if the _Mjolnr_ itself has that kind of striking power of its own, and the Earth Alliance has already unwittingly proved it a nuclear-resistant platform. For what it is worth, I believe this battle will remain conventional."

"Could they be operating with some other kind of capability? Mirage Colloid or something?" the council member in charge of science and technology asked.

"Possibly, and God help Mendel if they are," Yzak replied in a clipped fashion.

"What are our options?" the diplomatic chair asked.

"We have none," Durandal replied. "This battle is Mendel's proving ground. If they are to survive, they must prove themselves capable of it. We must plan for two contingencies: if Mendel wins, and if Mendel loses."

"If Mendel wins, they will likely issue a statement and analysis as to the efficacy of Earth Alliance forces and intentions. Basically, a breakdown on their actions in the same fashion that the Star Admiral embarrassed the Black Hand survivors by showing where they went wrong and how they got their butts kicked. If Mendel loses, there probably won't be anything standing between us and the Earth Alliance," Commander Valte commented.

"Then we will prepare for both," Durandal replied.

-x-x-x-

(28 December CE 71, 1600 Hours)

(Mendel Administration Building, floor 10 conference room)

"Short answer, sir, we got fleas but nothing more serious," Gerald Lightbringer said. "The problem is, 22 ships, mostly escorts and one good-sized flagship, ain't shit. They're playing something else, no two ways about it."

"What are the other options?" Star Admiral Centara asked directly.

"Sneak attack, nuclear missiles on dead fire, mirage colloid ships, chem or bio weapons coming in by cargo delivery, these bastards are inventive. If we can think of it, for damn sure so can they."

"Cuts both ways," Calamira replied. "If they can think of it, so can we – and we can see or sense them coming."

"Point," Gerald admitted. "Either way, this fleet coming in is an actual threat, if not a large one. What do we do about it?"

"Two ships and Mobile Armors," Wayne ordered. "Make it the _Hyperion_ and _Vladivostok_ plus Angels two and three, and probably a binary of fighters. We'll keep the rest of the formation in close, rapid reaction defense against a secondary attack vector."

"Roger that sir. I have an idea on how to get the fleet real good, if you're willing to completely embarrass the enemy."

"Talk to me, amigo," Wayne Centara requested.

"They're coming at us 'in the same old way', to quote the old Cavalry lament. I say we lay an inviting trap for 'em. They come on to us in the usual fashion, and those two witches of mine guard the front door as a real inviting target. Once they're close enough, we have their force flanked by two powered-down Warships, and we hit them from three sides all at once."

"Suck 'em into the fire-sack, slam the back door closed, hammer until flattened?" Wayne summed up the plan.

"Oh yeah," Gerald replied.

"I like it. Do it."

-x-

Despite deploy orders, Vhen Ra had never left Mendel. He now knew why.

"It's...different," he gaped. "It looks like the Fireball, but..."

"The Fireball was intended as the air-superiority fighter of a two-fighter pair. It turned out to make a kickass jack of all trades, but the Fireball is overkill for what we need here," Century Commander Lightbringer commented. "This is the Thunderball, slower and lower but with an extra fifteen tons of pod space. This one fighter literally carries more Battlemech equivalent weapons than two Spearhead fighters mass total."

"And this is why you called me to service as a test pilot, Century Commander?"

"Aff, I need someone who's willing to push it good and hard to slag down the opposition's best. Out here in space, you'll get a good chance to do that here in a couple weeks."

"Oh? Uninvited guests?" Vhen asked. He had heard some rumors about a possible fleet deploy from Ptolemaeus, but...

"You got it," Gerald replied. "I've worked up a basic load plan for it, but I expect you have your own preferences."

"I do, sir," Vhen admitted. "Gauss Rifle and ER Large Lasers, for starters, enough firepower to cripple a Mobile Suit in one stroke. I find myself also partial to LRM 15 racks, but can they be used from a craft such as this?"

"Oh yes," Gerald replied. "You'll want to prepare a load balance sheet and omni-pod requisition. Keep in mind that the Thunderball can carry 55 tons of internal stores and 20 tons external stores from a space-launch profile. Also, keep in mind that weapons heat is going to be an issue; you will want to make sure you have ample heat sinks to cover your arsenal, and ammunition for any ballistic or missile weapons."

"You have a lot of experience building Omnifighter configurations, I gather," Vhen replied.

"I have a few hours in the Fireball," Gerald replied evenly.

"What's the maneuver profile compared to a Strike Dagger?"

"Your safe thrust is half faster than a Strike Dagger with its foot down, max is nearly three times better than. Still, if they swarm, the arse of this thing is going to be a big target. I recommend either pulse lasers or streak SRMs for a rearguard."

"Farting missiles at the enemy?" Vhen cracked the expected joke. "What do Magi pilots do with explosive diarrhea?"

"When that happens, it is a very bad day for any enemy fighters or MS tailgating a Mage," Gerald replied evenly. He once lost a Trial of Grievance to a pilot who had armed his Fireball with a Thunderbolt-15 launchers facing rearward; Gerald had never underestimated a fighter's rear since that battle.

"I have some work to do, then," Vhen noted. "Gauss, two ER Large, LRM 15s forward, Streak 4 packs backwards?"

"Remember heat sinks," Gerald cautioned. "And load heavy on ammo where possible. Nothing ruins your day like sighting up an enemy and your weapons won't fire because you're out of bullets."

-x-x-x-

(30 December CE 71, 0800 Hours)

(Stateroom, Warship _Ophanim_)

"Ma'am, I have the full write-up of available Mendel forces, broke down as you suggested," Commander Grey announced on the room's intercom.

Natarle sighed as she placed a bookmark in her old copy of _The Art of War_ (English translation). "Enter," she ordered after a moment to compose herself; _The Art of War_ was something that every Magi soldier learned and implemented in battle, especially the tenets about recon and terrain. There wasn't much in the way of terrain out in space unless you were in an asteroid field, but recon they had in spades courtesy of the extremely-powerful sensors on the _Mjolnr_. Probably also because of their Strategic Psionic as well.

The look in Commander Grey's eyes was answer enough as to what he was holding in paperwork.

"Grab a seat, Commander," Natarle said as she turned around to the credenza and the well-stocked coffee machine on it. Two vacuum-sealed cups were pulled from the bottom of the credenza and connected to the machine for a fill. "How bad?" She asked as the cups filled.

"Bad enough that I hit the head before I came here," Grey replied. "Where do I start?"

"Start with the treaty caps and what you think they have shoehorned into those limits." She passed him one of the cups, which drifted over to him through the microgravity unimpeded.

"Well, the treaty says a maximum of three warships plus one for each inhabited colony. Given that much, they are running probably three of the Monitors and one of the _Archangel_-class ships. Absolute worst-case from a naval standpoint would be _Absinthe_, _Byzantine_, _Redland_ and _Dominion_."

"That's a helluva roster of names," Natarle commented, never having considered the names when mashed together.

"Helluva roster of firepower, as well. Just in a straight-up naval engagement, those four ships have our fleet outgunned almost two to one. Now, from a mobile forces standpoint, hell would come to us in the form of _Montgomery_, _Vladivostok_, _Hyperion_ and _Dominion_. As you know, _Mongomery_ and _Vladivostok_ are their main long-range interceptors for mobile forces, and also very capable of putting a heavy hurtin' on our ships just the same. I personally wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of those teleoperated Kraken missiles."

"Get used to the thought, we'll be going up against just exactly that," Natarle rebuffed him. "Mobile forces for this scenario?"

"Heavy on Fighters," he replied. "Treaty says 100 machines plus twenty per inhabited colony, double that in fighters but a quarter in Mobile Armors. I'm assuming they have two Stars of Mobile Armors, four binaries of Gundams, and four trinaries of fighters."

"Two trinaries," Natarle corrected. "A fighter point is two fighters, fifteen points to a trinary, thirty fighters per trinary total." She paused. "Oh, yeah, you're right, that would be four trinaries, 120 fighters total."

"And that is a helluva lot of whoopass," Commander Grey replied. "Four trinaries of fighters is more firepower than our fleet carries total. Add it up, we're outgunned somewhere between three to one and five to one."

"That's pretty bad," Natarle said. "Maybe..."

"Admiral?" Commander Grey asked.

"Why didn't I think of that before we departed lunar orbit?" Natarle berated herself. "We can do this."

"Uh, how?" Grey asked.

"We call them to Trial. We will have to argue from a point of operational weakness, which will definitely leave the fleet feeling undersized in the at least one department, but we can probably even out the battle or maybe give ourselves an advantage."

"Trial by Combat? Play their own game against them? Isn't that a losing proposition?"

"One on one, hell yes," Natarle replied. "Our best might be able to match their average in a one-on-one scrap, though I'd still probably bet on the Magi. Inventive bastards. Anyway, the purpose of the Batchall is to even the playing field, such as it is or would be. If we argue a position of weakness but a necessity to engage in Trial, we can stack the deck in our favor and use their own arrogance against them."

"Oh?" Grey half-grunted, half-queried. It only took a moment: "Oh;" followed by an evil smile. "Oh yeah, we force them to bid too low, and they won't win."

"You got it," Natarle replied. "Continue, please."

"Well, it only gets worse from here," Commander Grey replied evenly. "Assuming they were to meet us on level terms, that would be all six of their Monitors, _Dominion_, _Thrones_ and a dozen Mobile Armors or so. Figure the ships themselves carry enough forces to match our mobile compliment, so...colossal loser, no two ways about it."

"And worst case?" Natarle cringed in anticipation, even so.

"The whole can of whoopass, starting with the _Mjolnr_ and working your way down the ladder. Of course, any one of those ladder rungs could be used as a very effective bludgeon on us, but you have more experience in that than I do."

"That's what it amounts to," Natarle affirmed. "Our only way to win this is by Trial. Now, I need to figure up a decent excuse for Trial and get this ball rolling."

-x-x-x-

(31 December CE 71, 1000 Hours)

(Office of the Chief Representative, Central Administration Building, Emirate of Orb)

"Suffice it to say, the assault wave coming from Ptolemaeus is mincemeat," Rondo Mina Sahaku replied. "Mendel already knows they are coming, no doubt they already have a plan for turning those ships into salvage. The problem comes from a second vector, and that is where Colonel Kisaka comes in."

Kisaka nodded, his face grim. "Over the past six months, factions inside the NDIA have been producing large quantities of both Mirage Colloid gas and the necessary control systems to cover up one extremely large object. Now, this being said, we have no intelligence that the Earth Alliance is pulling the same stunt as ZAFT did – build a very big super weapon and hide it by MC."

"Intelligence lack aside, would they do it?"

"Yes, no and no," Kisaka replied honestly. "Yes, they would build such a weapon on general drive alone; no, they would not hide it by Mirage Colloid; no, they would not build it space-mobile after seeing what Mendel did to GENESIS. They would want such a device land-based, preferably in solid rock and preferably somewhere they can easily deploy whole scads of forces to guard it."

"Somewhere on the moon, then," Rondo Mina Sahaku replied. "They have three good bases, Arzachel for the Eurasians, Ptolemaeus, and Daedalus. We've heard some noise about new construction at Daedalus, but most of that appears to be more tenders for _Nelson_-class ships. Arzachel and Ptolemaeus are pretty much unaffected."

"Okay, if they're not hiding a superweapon, what are they hiding?" Cagalli asked fairly.

"Either a new base, which is a waste of Mirage Colloid since it will be eventually found one way or the other, or a lot of Warships," Ledonir Kisaka opined. "My present guess would be the latter; the Earth Alliance is famous for being obtuse but hiding an immobile collection of structures is pushing the bounds of stupidity."

"Further evidence?" the Chief Rep asked.

"Definitely. A few of the _Nelsons_ converted over to mercenary units have disappeared—literally—and there seems to be a trend of supply launches from Arzachel with no intended ship; that indicates something is up there which is not visible. I'm not sure if the Magi have twigged to this thought, mainly because our surveillance is less mechanical than theirs."

"So you think there is a second fleet up there, cloaked under Mirage Colloid, that may or may not be gunning for the Magi. How do we convey that thought to them?"

"We don't have any real options, ma'am," Rondo replied. "We can't put this out on the LLOC (1) Satellites, we don't want to twig the Earth Alliance to our sources."

"And hand-delivering a warning is out, their next Dropship arrival isn't scheduled for three weeks," Kisaka said with a worried tone. Since the Gigfafloat was now the de facto material shipping point for anything headed to Mendel, or ZAFT by way of Mendel, traffic at the Onogoro Spaceport had slowed down significantly.

"All that can be done is hope that Mendel can pull off a lucky one and see the targets before they get close enough to damage the colony," Cagalli reiterated.

"Pretty much, I don't see a way to inform them without blowing our sources." If Rondo could sound any colder, how was lost on Cagalli. "I have faith in the Magi. Even if they probably aren't being completely forward with us."

"Something worrying you?" Cagalli asked.

"They say they have no Mages in their ranks, but I don't think so. I have no hard proof, but I think Gerald is a Commando – and a bit older than the 43 his Codex says he is."

"Could be," Cagalli replied evenly. "He always struck me as someone who had 'been there, done that'. And his understanding of events differed slightly from the history they reported, but I thought it was just operator's perspective. May be older," she replied. "Maybe not. Not really sure, and I'm not sure I'd want to ask.." Cagalli's reason was simple: if he was concealing his real age, there was a good reason for such concealment and he probably wouldn't take kindly to someone encroaching on that territory. In extension, if what Rondo said was true and Gerald was a Mage-trained Commando (Cagalli didn't think so), there would be little stopping him from annihilating anyone that pushed the wrong buttons.

"Don't think so?" Kisaka asked after a moment.

"No, I don't," Cagalli replied after a moment. "A good pilot with a bad attitude, yes, maybe even a Commando, but if he was Mage-trained he would be a powerful one – something relating to that newtype illusion he used, so I heard – and could probably have taken the _Mjolnr_ home himself."

"He's not a Mage, but it won't matter, ma'am," Captain Ramius concluded.

"Oh?" Rondo Mina Sahaku asked.

"Invisible or not, Strategic Officer Weste will sense them coming. It's her job to know what is coming and how to deal with it. On the other hand, if they don't have enough naval forces deployed, this could get ugly."

-x-x-x-

(3 January CE 72, 1400 Hours)

(Central Assembly Building, Manaus, Brazil)

"I think I'll stock up on beer and pretzels for the big match," Ed Harrelson commented to the assembled listeners. "You know when Mendel flattens them we'll get a run-down on the complete ineptitude of the Earth Alliance forces. Computer simulations and color commentary."

"Quite true," the President replied. "I learned quite a bit from the last presentation Admiral Centara did."

"He was right, the Black Hand had to walk into the teeth of a firestorm to get to their objectives and they paid dearly for it," Rico noted with a smile. "Just that much less force they can use on us, and we get a salvaged carrier out of the deal. I don't see this attack doing any better; wonder if we could pick up a couple _Nelson_-class ships after they get mulched."

"It will have to go in for repairs, but we can do the job with it," the President had to sign off on the purchase order, but nobody inside or out of his political party begrudged him the chance to make the purchase. The aircraft carrier was the dominant form of naval warfare since the 1940s; the USSA was almost completely surrounded by ocean, so any warships they could acquire were repaired and commissioned as quickly as possible. Purchasing a salvaged _Spengler_-class carrier was both a military coup for the USSA and a good round of pissing in the eye of the Earth Alliance.

"Okay, shopping list, already have beer and pretzels listed. Who wants what?" Ed asked the assembled persons, a legal pad and pen at the ready to take down the party supplies.

"Vodka and Jello," Rico replied immediately. "Jello Shooters are one of the best party foods possible," he replied to the quizzical glances from some of the cabinet members.

"Tortilla chips, salsa, and a couple bottles of tequila," the defense minister requested. Ed continued writing as fast as possible.

"If I may ask, you're not worried they might lose?" the Secretary of Hospitals asked.

"Nope," Ed replied immediately. "The EA will cause some damage to Mendel, but definitely not enough to cripple them or even take 'em out of the game. This one is a foregone conclusion, which is why I'm preparing the party early. We've got a lot of years coming that we'll be working with them, might as well welcome the thought with open arms."

"He's right," Rico appended in the short silence thereafter. "Mendel will take losses, but the EA can't afford to throw whole fleets away – not for long, at least. This crap keeps up, I see their military establishment rebelling against their puppet masters in a year or two."

"Get some hot dogs and buns, I'll bring a grill in tomorrow," the Minister of Science and Technology commented.

"Nachos?" the Minister of the Treasury asked. Ed dutifully added that entry to the list.

"_El Presidente_?" Ed asked after a moment.

"I'll whip up some baked beans and scalloped potatoes," the President replied. "Get me the beans, ten pounds of potatoes, three pounds of ham cubes, two pounds of colby cheese, a half-gallon of milk, and two sticks of butter." (2)

"Will do, sir," Ed commented, making fast and furious shorthand notes of the list and hoping that he could understand it when he got to the store a couple days prior to the shooting match.

"You know, the flagship of this fleet is the _Ophanim_, is that going to make a difference?" the Minister of Defense asked plaintively. The room went silent after a moment; everyone knew what a nightmare facing down an _Archangel_-class ship would be, even to Mendel. "Captain's supposed to be a veteran, Natarle Badgiruel."

Ed grimaced, thinking about it. "It'll skew the kills on both sides, but I think Mendel will still win," he replied after a moment.

"How positive of that are you?" the Secretary of Hospitals asked on the heels of Ed's answer.

"Better than 60–40, Secretary," Ed replied. "Remember, Mendel has two _Archangel_-class ships themselves and six Monitors capable of tearing an _Archangel_ to shreds. To Admiral Halberton, the _Archangel_ and its G-weapons were supposed to level the playing field, but to Mendel it's just another ship. Long on engine, reasonable of armor and short on gun is how one of their Marines described the class. They aren't impressed, and the Earth Alliance should know it."

-x-x-x-

(10 January CE 72, 0600 Hours)

(Warship _Mjolnr_, Mendel SDIZ)

"Conn, Sensors, I show tango fleet at location Sierra-one, just entering the Mendel Space Defense Identification Zone at this time."

"Radio, Conn, any announcement of intentions from the fleet?" Commander Ward asked.

"Negative, fleet is under radio silence, minor radar systems for close proximity only," the electronics warfare officer replied since the radio panel was not staffed at the moment.

"Very well, we assume hostile intent. Chief of the boat, sound general quarters."

"General quarters, general quarters, all hands to your battle stations!" The Chief Petty Officer ordered over the ship's PA system in parallel to the battle theme of _Ghost Opera_ by the band Kamelot.

"Radio, Conn, by land line, please forward to Fleet Command that tango fleet has crossed the demarc line."

"Message sent, sir," the Commo officer replied. "Conn, Radio, we have traffic from command."

"Read it," Commander Ward ordered.

"Sir, it's a ROE warning. We have orders to engage any threat that appears to be moving on the colonies or any civilian craft in Mendel SDIZ. _Mjolnr_ is released Condition One rules of engagement unless enemy forces begin parley."

"Acknowledge orders." By now, the bridge was up to full staffing, or as close as the bridge would be to full with a heavily-depleted crew compliment. "Weapon Officer, all stations and all armaments active in two minutes. Set all local control terminals to special auto and all fire commands to bridge delegated. Ai, you can cover the weapon control stations."

"Already ready, sir," the ship's artificial intelligence unit replied. "Be warned, without gunners and gunner technicians, once a weapon goes down we're talking days for the nanomachine hives to fix 'em."

"Understood, can't be helped," Commander Ward groused. "Helm, be ready for sudden movement orders. Sound collision at any time we are at risk for impacts, do not wait for my orders. Electronic Warfare, as soon as something locks us up, you are authorized to jam it solid. I take it you're already jamming their long-range search systems?"

"Aff, Commander Ward," the EWO team replied.

"Sensors, crank it up to standard and start looking everywhere for possible threats. They aren't just dumb enough to waltz up and ring our doorbell, they have to have a Plan B, Plan C, and probably a Plan D for good measure."

"Roger that, sir," the Sensors officers replied. Hands reached up to the power control panels for the banks of sensors and turned the arrays up to 50 percent – standard power – and in one case to 100. It would be the latter that made the difference this day.

"Conn, COB, all stations reporting manned and ready for action, or at least those stations to which we have personnel."

"COB, Conn, aye," Glennaste Ward the second replied. "Weapons, report ready status."

"Conn, Weps, all armaments are ready. AMS grid is in special auto and all guns are on manual command from bridge controls."

"Radio, fleet status?" Ward asked immediately thereafter.

"_Dominion_ has planet-side guard, _Hyperion_ and _Vladivostok_ are out in the wings waiting for their grand entrance, and we have close-prox colony guard." The Mjolnr itself was no longer hiding on the far side of Mendel with respect to the planet, it had been moved to directly below the colony (in relation to the orbital plane) to allow it the most effective sensor sweep area.

"Conn, Radio, enemy fleet is transmitting in the clear—what the hell? Enemy commander is requesting Batchall!"

"Interesting," Commander Ward replied evenly. Descended of the warriors of Clan Wolf, he knew well the process of Batchall and the attempt at glory to be tried.

-x-

Natarle figured it for a flanking trap when she could find trace of only two Mobile Armors waiting for her between Mendel and her fleet. Of the four ships allowed under the treaty, only two could be detected by their sensor emissions, the _Dominion_ on the far side of Mendel and the _Mjolnr_ parked under Mendel. However, she knew she could defuse the trap by playing their own game...

"Attention Mendel forces commander, this is Admiral Natarle Badgiruel of the Earth Alliance. I hereby call the Multimage Protectorate of Mendel to a Trial of Grievance for your insulting and derisive conduct in pertaining to the mercenary battle on the Gigafloat and subsequent press releases pertaining to that battle. Who stands to challenge the will of the Earth Alliance?"

"Points for the effort," someone replied. "Attention Admiral Badgiruel, this is Star Captain Wendy Barus, callsign Angel Three. Your request is heard but the challenge requested is not appropriate for your intentions. A Trial of Grievance is between two warriors, not two governments. You seek a Trial of Possession for the right to censure the Protectorate, or am I mistaken on your intent?"

"This is my intent," Natarle replied evenly. "How say you to the Trial?"

"I will entertain Batchall, please state your intent."

Natarle had to think fast. She was expecting just a small battle she could rig to her preference, but changing the form of the Trial changed the necessary steps of the Batchall. "I hereby request a Trial of Possession for the right to issue censure to Mendel at this time, and for the right to Refuse political actions taken by Mendel at a later time as if the Earth Alliance was part of the Magi Touman."

A sharp bark of laughter was the response. "You propose an interesting position, Admiral. To have the right to directly interfere in the policies of a Magi prefecture is a very serious escalation of political authority. I commend you on your choice of tack in this matter."

Natarle remained silent, unsure if she should say anything or not in these circumstances.

"As this is a very big and very red line you just shoved this Batchall across, we will make the matter of significant personal challenge to you. I request as isorla, in the event that you lose, you will turn over your fleet to me in its entirety, and you will submit yourself to me to serve as my bondswoman. How stands that as motivation to win?"

"She can't be serious!" Commander Grey replied.

"She is," Natarle replied immediately. "Given what I just asked, the value of a small junker fleet is a small price to pay in terms of their policies." Natarle clicked the bridge PA back on. "I agree to your terms, Star Captain Barus. Please name your forces."

"As a preliminary bid, I wager myself and my sister, Mina Barus, in piloting of Dendrobium Mobile platforms. You may bid your level of offense, but be advised that I have far more forces at my disposal to bid at this time."

"Foremost, I would like to request that this Trial be kept small, no more than two Trinaries on either side and no warships in the bid, to minimize losses of life and resources during the battle," Natarle requested in the short silence thereafter. She knew that the purpose of the Batchall and the various Trials was expressly to prevent massive losses of life and resources in unfettered battles, and she knew the Magi followed in the same principle.

"I will honor this request," Wendy replied. "I sense...you have another request?"

"Aff," Natarle replied. "It pains me to do so, but I must request dispensation for operational weakness; I cite the Second Battle of Jachin Due and the Battle of the Gigafloat as my evidence. In prior combat against the Magi, our forces have been bled white, stripped of truly veteran or elite personnel necessary to match the Magi on even footing."

Silence was the answer from the Magi for a few moments. "Please wait one, such a dispensation must be authorized by a heavy force commander, typically no less than a Galaxy Commander," Wendy replied after about ten seconds.

-x-

"I have been listening, Wendy," Gerald said from the cockpit of his heavily-modified Physalis, parked in the _Dominion_ on the far side of the SDIZ. "They are trying to force you to bid too low to win, though in all reality they do have a legitimate claim to operational weakness."

"We spanked 'em so hard they are still feeling it," Wendy replied. "Do I grant that dispensation?"

"You may, and remember you will have to bid cutdown (3) at the absolute maximum under such a dispensation."

"Two Stamens?"

"Sounds close enough to fair for me," Gerald replied.

"Very well," Wendy groused. "We did give her a crash-course in playing our game, so..."

"Well, give her a crash-course in the arrogance of her superiors, then," Century Commander Lightbringer ordered. "You know the drill."

"Aff, sir." Wendy changed channels. "Attention Admiral Badgiruel, this is Star Captain Barus. Your dispensation has been authorized by Century Commander Gerald Lightbringer. I bid two Dendrobium Stamen mobile suits, piloted by myself and Mina Barus, against your forces. What do you bid?"

"I bid the mobile compliment of the _Archangel_-class warship _Ophanim_; specifically, a Sword Calamity, a Buster Dagger, four 105 Daggers with varied Striker Packs, a Hyperion, and a Duel Dagger. What say you to this bid?"

"I accept the terms of the forces bid," Wendy replied immediately, though with an edge to voice. "The battle will be conducted here, between Mendel and your fleet. Keep in mind this is not a Circle of Equals, there is no hard-defined limit to maneuver, though I advise you do not cluster with the ships or your bid may be voided. Additionally, the Trial is null if your forces fire on Mendel or any civilian traffic."

"I agree to these terms," Natarle replied.

"Well bargained and done," Wendy completed the traditional process with the traditional phrase. "Battle will begin on the launch of your eighth unit or upon the first shot taken by your side. Mina, pull rifle and shield, get ready to go in hard with just our Stamen units."

"Oh, fun!" Mina replied in a sweet, almost singsong voice. It only took her four seconds to collect the weapon and shield. "Ready, sister."

"Let's do this," Wendy said. The first of the enemy machines launched from the _Ophanim_, a 105 Dagger with a Launcher Strike pack, was easily targeted by Mina but was not fired upon due to the terms of the Trial.

-x-

"Outstanding, the pawn has fulfilled her purpose with alacrity," Captain Helm noted.

"Indeed," his XO replied. "Those arrogant fuck Magi are looking in the other direction, while we slip by the _Dominion_ and _Mjolnr_ to attack their colony."

"In ten minutes, there will be nothing standing between us and complete purification of the Earth Sphere," the Blue Cosmos 'Political Officer' noted with a feral smile.

"Weapons, Conn, begin arming procedures for all nuclear missiles at this time. Your primary target is Mendel, secondary targets are the engine blocks on the _Mjolnr_ and the second Mendel colony," the Captain ordered.

"Conn, Weps, beginning arming procedures," and the sound of breaking plastic could be heard in several locations around the bridge. The arming codes necessary for each missile were sealed in an acrylic break-open packet, each missile requiring four codes to completely arm plus a custom-fitted arming key that had to be inserted and turned on the missile's control panel itself. Each missile would take about 40 seconds to arm, just as they had done so in practice numerous times.

"The other two fleet groups would be arming their missiles right now, just as we are," Captain Helm told the BC political officer. "We will not make the same mistake twice, one missile or two is not ample to ensure the job is done right. We will give them the rain of fire this time around."

"There is no kill like overkill, eh?" the BC officer chuckled mirthlessly in the silence of the XO's comment.

"Well," Captain Helm smiled savagely. "I think we'll take a page from their playbook, set the mood with a little music. Radio, fire up _Wolfpack_, by Sabaton, if you will."

"Conn, Radio, aye," the Ensign at the radio panel replied. It only took a few seconds before the cello strains began...

-x-

"And so it begins," Commander Ward groused. "Oh, nice tactic, Wendy," he commented after he realized what she was doing.

"The Running Man?" CWO Willy asked from his helm station.

"Indeed, mixed somewhat with The Circle Jerk," Glennaste Ward replied. "The disparity in movement rates between, say, the Aile Dagger and the Duel Dagger is pronounced. By drawing them out in a linear or semi-circular running battle, they become separated in the chase. When divided, Mina and Wendy will turn and apply the 'conquer' phase of the old saw 'divide and conquer'."

"They are notably skilled, I question why their commander cannot see through that ploy," Chief Warrant Officer Esmeralda, normally in charge of shooting at the surface of a planet (and thus without anything to do) was also watching the battle. Her console screens were given over to data links and sensor reads of the battle, whereas Commander Ward observed the battle in the commander's holotank.

"Indeed they are skilled, one of the 105 Daggers just walked a burst of MG fire across Mina's leg. Nothing serious, but that is a pilot better than they claim," Ward noted.

"Operational weakness my ass," the forward sensor operator commented. "Uh-oh," he groused as a Buster Dagger appeared to sight up the front of the _Mjolnr_, though was likely aiming at Wendy.

"Take the hit in stride," Commander Ward replied immediately. The shot missed Wendy by a matter of two meters but continued on and slammed into the front glacis plate of the _Mjolnr_. "Ignore that hit, Warships are not part of the battle," Commander Ward ordered before the Weps officers could begin to issue fire commands.

"Minor damage, bow armor zone," the AI reported.

"Oh, there we go, Mina's on the scoreboard," Esmeralda reported with cheer to her voice, as the Aile Dagger took first one, then two more beams for the kill. The pilot bailed and began using a maneuver pack to return to the _Ophanim_. "And now they are on the scoreboard as well," she commented a few seconds later, as a 105 Dagger sheared the right arm off Mina's Mobile Suit with a Schwert Gewehr. Said tango did not last long, as Wendy came to her sister's aid with a beam saber and chopped the enemy 105 Dagger in half about midway up the chest.

"That's three," Commander Ward said as Mina moved on the Buster Dagger with a beam saber in her left hand. The shield on her left forearm was already taking a beating, more so as she closed with the target, but the enemy couldn't put enough hurt downrange to stop such a savage pilot. It ended with a beam saber against Mina's shield against Mina's beam saber in the upper chest of the enemy machine.

"What the hell?" Sensors Four asked her console. The new recruit was still getting used to the vagaries of Magi sensor systems, but her drilling four times a day was beginning to make her reactions to certain readouts automatic. "Computer, isolate on anomaly in sector four-dash-one and run all passive systems. Do not sweep area with active systems any more than present."

"Isolating now," the console replied. "Anomaly confirmed, background radiation reading drop consistent with energy-absorbing stealth technology applied to large object."

"Oh SHIT!" she screeched. "Conn, sensors, cloaked shipping, port side! Nine o'clock, sector one, best range 8-8-thousand kilometers!"

"Holy shit, how did they get that close?" Commander Ward asked rhetorically. "Sensors, max power, hammer those contacts! ECM full jamming, weps prepare to go live!"

"Commander, should I turn towards?" Willie asked from the helm station.

"Neg, not until we know what we are facing. Sensors!"

The rookie, a Coordinator by birth, already had her sensors up to 100 percent power and began dwelling on the target. "Sir, confirmed black hole reading, something's absorbing our sensors. Gross mass estimates, if it is a bubble cloak the ship's about 20,000 tons, if it's a hull cloak it should be near 60,000 tons."

"Mirage Colloid is a hull cloak, and 60,000 is about the size of a _Nelson_-class ship. Radio, issue a raid warning!"

"Conn, sensors, more stealth contacts to starboard!"

-x-

"Mina, we need to take down that Gunbarrel 105 or we're dead meat! Flank it left, I'll go up top!"

"Who the fuck is this guy?" Mina asked in retort, pausing just long enough to take a couple shots at the Launcher Dagger with her recovered beam rifle. Two missed, one was blocked, an inconclusive result for her effort.

"Whoa, shit, _Mjolnr_ just went hot on his sensors," Wendy said in shock as her sensor and ECM panels lit up bright.

"Raid warning, raid warning, raid warning! _Mjolnr_ has detected cloaked ships in vicinity of Mendel! All available forces close on Mendel colony for final protective fire!" Mina figured something was wrong, given her radio panel showed the transmission was on the GUARD frequency, an open channel available to everyone in space.

"What the hell?" A guy asked on the same frequency.

"They ain't ours! We don't have any ships in that area! What the hell's going on?" a somewhat-disoriented-sounding lady asked.

"All Earth Alliance forces, this is Admiral Badgiruel, break contact and return to fleet immediately! Something is seriously not right here!"

"Admiral Badgiruel, Star Captain Barus; what's going on here?" Wendy asked.

"I am suspending combat actions until we know what the hell is going on," Natarle replied. "Those ships aren't part of my fleet, and I won't have them interfering in our trial."

"Thank you," Wendy replied sincerely. "_Mjolnr_, SC Barus, did you copy last?"

"Roger that, stand by," the _Mjolnr_ radio operator replied.

-x-

"Control, what Mobile Forces do we have available?" Commander Ward asked.

"1 star Aerofighters, one star Mobile Suits, one experimental aerofighter and two Gundams."

"Deploy all units. Weapons, begin firing on the nearest enemy ships, full weapons release."

"Releasing missile launch authorization, AI has teleoperation control for all Kraken, Barracuda, White Shark, and Killer Whale missiles," the Weapons Lieutenant ordered. "Fire at will, full weapons release," she completed the order.

With five contacts isolated to either side of the ship, the gunners had plenty of targets to fire upon with their whole weapons arrays. The bulk of the antishipping firepower on the _Phalanx-_class ships was contained in six batteries consisting of two 300mm naval autocannons per broadside. Each gun could rend most Dropships asunder in a single volley, and each broadside contained twelve of the cannons plus Naval Particle Cannons, missile launchers, and even a smattering of lasers and autocannons for anti-air work.

The first volley turned out to be the most spectacular, with the ship scoring four kills in six seconds and two more in the next five seconds courtesy of the missiles. The impacts of the autocannon shells turned out to be the most curious: the transit of the shell disrupted the Mirage Colloid temporarily, followed by the explosion of the shell disrupting even more of the gas particulate to show the ship hidden below.

"Guns cycling! Fifty seconds!" Lieutenant Wicks shouted from the weapons stations.

"Conn, sensors, contacts are dropping Mirage Colloid – count seven more ships, three to starboard, four to port!"

"Control, deploy Mobile Suits to guard the colony, aerofighters and experimental units to tackle the warships! Double-time the launches!"

"Enemy return fire! Sound collision!" Given the short distance to the _Mjolnr_, few of the beam cannon shots missed their mark, but on the other hand few of the cannon shots did enough damage to talk about just the same. The _Nelson_-class ships were firing on a massive target that bore as much armor as half the mass of a fully-loaded _Nelson_, making the battle more than just partially one-sided for the _Mjolnr_.

"Conn, flight control, we're launching units now."

Immediately thereafter: "Vhen Ra, Thunderball Prototype, launching!"

-x-

Having been a primarily runway-based pilot, Vhen had only two cat-shots in his life from a warship, both in the past week for check rides on his craft. The catapults were not used for training flights to help force the pilots to learn how to build inertia from a cold start, a sadly common mission requirement according to most of the veteran Magi pilots.

Today was a different day, and the catapult ejected him into space with a full load of armaments on his craft and in his craft. Externally, a mix of missiles for multiple range brackets came out to 19950 kilograms of payload, the bulk of that mass in long-range interceptor missiles (Phoenix-IIM space-capable extreme range missiles). Internally, his craft massed in at 100,120 kilos, or just a hair over 100 tons with full load.

"Thunderball, Control, you are authorized unlimited operations area and weapons free. Keep them off the colony, pilot," his controller ordered.

"Aff, command," Vhen Ra replied immediately. "TTS online, building shootlist now," he commented mostly to himself. Within three seconds, the computer had targeted every object short of the Mendel debris field (what remained of it) and immediately stripped out all friendly, neutral or civilian contacts, leaving only the enemy warships and MS to target. The range factors worked to his favor; all the enemies were in at least his medium range missile profile just after launch, and his long-range heavy weapons profile for internal-mount weapons.

Beam shots from the enemy Strike Daggers missed his machine wildly; Vhen could not tell if they were shooting at him, shooting in his general direction, or shooting at the Warship. The nearest of the enemy machines, freshly launched from a _Nelson_-class ship, became his first target with a few basic jinks of his fighter. The Gauss rifle in the nose of his fighter spoke first followed by both ER Large Lasers, one mounted in each wing. One of the lasers missed in the gap between the target's right arm and right torso area but the other laser and the gauss rifle struck the upper chest of the machine. What remained of the machine began lazily rolling in place, now bereft of both maneuvering power and offensive ability.

Next on Vhen's list of interesting things to shoot happened to be a Duel Dagger without the advanced Fortressa Armor system. Lacking the advanced armor, Mendel's combat intelligence service determined it to be only marginally more threatening than the mass-produced Strike Daggers; add the armor, it becomes potentially lethal. In this case, Vhen targeted the unit with two medium-range space intercept missiles and both internal-mount LRM 15-missile packs. The flight time of six seconds gave the enemy time to squirm, but no human pilot was capable of pulling a 40-gravity 'stiffy' like what the pilot tried and failed to do. The last second and a half of flight time was against a non-maneuvering target until the intercept; the propellant cookoff in the targeted machine only added to the fireworks.

"Mayflies have longer life expectancies than these pukes," Vhen commented to nobody in particular. "So who is next?" his answer came from two of the _Nelson_-class ships, six missiles aimed at his craft from each ship. "I shoulda stayed in bed this morning," he groused before he hammered the throttle to try and dodge the missiles.

-x-

"Emily Reache, you are cleared on catapult Mike-6-Sierra for immediate launch, Once you are clear of the ship you are assigned unrestricted operations zone with full release."

"Emily Reache on Blossom, roger your last," Emily replied as she mounted up the catapult. "All systems verified ready to go, all weapons internal tests green. Blossom will be launching momentarily."

"Emily," the effective MS commander for the formation prompted.

"Go," Emily replied.

"Focus on dealing with the enemy MS foremost, the _Mjolnr_ can handle the warships. If we have to, we can take out the ships after we have taken out the mobile forces. I will join you shortly."

"Roger that, Alicia," Emily replied. "Blossom, launching now!" Emily shoved forward on the throttles; once the thrust from her system exceeded a certain amount, the catapult automatically tripped and added its force to her launch.

"Blossom, Control, please begin MPIWS scan of area and upload results to the _Mjolnr_. We think there are more ships or cloaked units out here than are visible."

"Roger that, activating MPIWS. Thirty seconds." Emily took the time while the scan was working to unlock and use her beam sniper rifle. Unlike the original Gundam Blossom, she was not limited to just the beam sniper rifle and two beam saber/beam gun weapons, it had been modified to use the entire gamut of weapons available to the Magi. More was the better that the Blossom she was piloting also had an extra three hardpoints for weapons, including a beam rifle, a guided missile launcher, and a ballistic sniper rifle.

"Twenty seconds," Emily read off the sensor analysis panel while she sighted up the first enemy to receive her ministrations. A lousy Strike Dagger pilot scored lucky on the first shot with a block from his shield, but not on the second as it clipped his chest and annihilated all-important quasi-modal cortex required of the Earth Alliance machines. "Mama said there'd be days like this, I just never thought there'd be so many or so rough as this," she said while transitioning to another Strike Dagger for a shot. This pilot appeared and acted a little more veteran than the first, with three blocks from her long-range beam rifle. His eagerness to close with Emily left him open to maneuver warfare, and Emily took advantage of it by going upward on the orbital plane and shooting down at him before he could rotate his shield back in place. One good shot to his arse caused the enemy pilot to lose control and start spinning erratically; a second shot removed the right arm and prevented further offense.

"Ten seconds," Emily counted off before she squared up to a Raider Full Spec. The pilot in question was more than capable of dodging around the beam rifle shots at range, giving him an advantage over Emily until she put the beam sniper rifle away and pulled the standard beam rifle. The Raider's paired GAU-8M2 machine guns got it close to the Blossom, though when in close the beam rifle had an almost-zero travel time. One shot removed the entire right shoulder and arm assembly as well as put a hole in the sub-wing surface, with a second shot against the left arm to sever it just below the elbow. A follow-up shot knocked the main battery out, rendering it powerless and causing it to drift in the general direction of the _Mjolnr_.

"Bingo! MPIWS Radar is on, results in ten seconds!" As a result of the extreme use of Minovsky Particles, the sensor picture fuzzed up for everyone, including the Magi, but not enough to cripple accuracy.

-x-

"Control, Alicia Yamato, show callsign as Unicorn and operating with zero (4)."

"Control rogers your last, Unicorn. Declare status.

"Control, Unicorn, requesting launch authorization."

"Unicorn, Control, clear for launch on Mike-7-Sierra, be advised enemy shipping has closed to 7-7-thousand kilometers at this time. When you launch, you will be in range to their guns, if not to the Mobile Suits."

"Unicorn rogers your last," Star Commander Yamato replied in a somewhat disinterested fashion; the range to the enemies was only going to get smaller, and that because the Earth Alliance might as well have learned their gunnery from the A-Team. Any Mage that shot like they did would be sent back to Basic Training, she figured. "Alicia Yamato, Gundam Double-X CQ Mod, launching!"

Once outside the ship, Alicia could easily detect the massive Minovsky interference caused by Emily's MPIWS sensor suite. Given the sensors on her machine were not set up to 'read' the interference caused between Minovsky particles and solid objects, all she could do was wait for a read from Emily and shoot down the more visibly irate enemies in the area. For her, this turned out to be a Strike Dagger foolish enough to draw beam saber and attempt to close, to which Alicia drew her modified machine's main CQB weapon, a copy of the Schwert Gewehr from the Strike Gundam. The first clash was technically a draw for the two pilots, though the impact of going against a massive beam blade jammed the shoulder and elbow joints on the Strike Dagger's right arm. When the second clash began, the pilot was unable to block the larger Gundam and was cleaved in half from right shoulder to left waist.

"Control, Unicorn, my sector is clear at this time," Alicia reported, with the bulk of the enemy forces having been silenced by the _Mjolnr_ or by the Thunderball prior to her launch. "Any news?"

"Neg, not yet, still waiting for the report from the Blossom," her controller replied. "Enemy fleets port and starboard appear to be withdrawing. Do not engage unless necessary."

"Roger that, standing by," Alicia replied. "System, verify charge for Satellite Cannons."

"Satellite cannons charged and inactive, maximum blast 25 seconds," the monotone computer voice replied.

"Unicorn, Control, we have a third fleet identified by the Strategic Psionic directly aft of Mendel, roughly halfway between the _Dominion_ and the _Mjolnr_. You are authorized to engage and destroy all assets."

"Unicorn, Thunderball, this is Lightbringer. I have no assets in the area, for the next two minutes you are it. The _Mjolnr_ is facing the wrong way to support you; delay those ships until reinforcements arrive, quiaff?"

"Aff, sir!" Alicia replied. "Emily, I need the locations of those ships, pronto!"

"Shit!" Emily shouted a second thereafter. "My C3 is not working! Can you target a nav point?"

"I can try," Alicia replied dubiously. The Navigation Point System was not designed to provide targeting telemetry, but it could be finagled to provide at least a static reference for shooting actions. And, more to the point, the Nav system worked completely independent of the C3 network, meaning if a pilot had a problem with their integral C3 or IDM/IVIS systems, they could still convey information by way of the Nav Point Telemetry Systems.

"Okay, setting some nav points on the ships," Emily replied. "Okay, here, X-1 to X-6 are their ships."

Alicia tripped the toggle for her heat fins and Satellite Cannons, transforming her modified Gundam from a close-quarters specialist into a weapon of naval destruction. With the fins and cannons deployed, her maneuvering options were reduced drastically (the main boosters would shear off the lower four fins if used) but she also had the theoretical power to severely damage the _Mjolnr_, much less any lesser ship.

The enemy realized what she was doing just the same. Several beams were loosed from the target area, all but confirming the presence of ships under cloak, though none of the shots approached close enough to Alicia to really chance hitting her. _Lackluster gunners_, she thought before she finished locking up the muzzle of one of the firing ships. Two Mobile Suits departed the Mirage Colloid, one a Strike Dagger, the other a 105 Dagger, and both began closing on her.

Though valiant of effort, neither of the enemy Mobile Suits approached close enough to stop her. The Satellite Cannons mounted to her machine were even temporarily blocked by the 105 Dagger pilot, but this effort did not last more than five seconds before the cannons overwhelmed the shield and converted the foolish Aile 105 Dagger into a slagged heap. Once past the enemy MS, Alicia swept the paired satellite cannons counter-clockwise around the nav points, in the process killing three ships and damaging one more.

"Dude! You go girl! Just don't point that thing at me as you goin'!" Shani Andras noted as first one, then a second ship blew outward from cooked ordinance or fuel.

"Nothing like a weapon of mass destruction to get the enemy's attention," Oruga Sabnak noted as the two remaining ships dropped their mirage colloid and fired missiles – some at the colonies, others at Alicia. "Clotho!"

"I got 'em," Clotho Bauer replied as he took aim at the missiles headed for Alicia. Between the beam vulcans in her Gundam's head and the Zorn energy cannon in the mouth of the Raider, none of the six missiles tasked to her Gundam got close.

"Gundams, _Mjolnr_ control, those missiles are all conventional. Ignore the ones headed for the colony, they won't be able to cause significant damage. Focus on the ships."

"I have an idea," Alicia replied coldly, though it required a bluff on her part. After considering a quick tack, she switched frequencies to an open frequency. "Attention, defeated fleet forces in the proximity of Mendel, this is Star Commander Alicia Yamato, pilot of the Gundam Double-X. My cannons have recharged and not one of your ships is cloaked; the only thing stopping you from becoming space debris is two pounds of resistance on my trigger. If you surrender now, your fate will be determined after the conclusion of Admiral Badgiruel's Trial of Possession. Continue to resist and I will destroy all remaining ships."

"This is the _Merrimack_, Captain Helm speaking, ranking ship in the mercenary fleets. We will stand down at this time."

Alicia sighed, her thumb off the radio transmit button. The bluff worked perfectly; with two minutes to go before the cannons were cool enough to fire a second time, she had the victory never expected. "Not bad for a country girl from Port Arthur," she reminded herself in the silence of her cockpit. "Wonder if that kid Kira Yamato could bluff 'em like that."

-x-

"Wendy, Gerald; sensors and Strategic Officer report all clear around the colony. You may resume combat when appropriate."

"Roger that, sir," Wendy Barus replied. "Attention Admiral Badgiruel, according to our numerous assets, the Trial area is clear. We may resume at your leisure."

This apparently shocked the Admiral. "I thought Mendel considered outside interference in the involved parties to disqualify the Trial."

"Neg, since neither my sister nor I was fired upon, this Trial is still considered valid. Unless you wish to forfeit your isorla, I suggest you continue."

"Roger that," Natarle replied. "Colonel Chevallier, resume combat."

"Let's get back to it, honey," Morgan Chevalier replied.

"I think we'll enjoy making you a bondsmen," Mina replied in almost a savage fashion.

"Okay, that sounded wrong," the Colonel replied.

Wendy simply chuckled as she moved laterally and vertically to get a good angle on the Launcher 105 Dagger. "I hereby challenge the 105 Dagger with the Launcher pack to single combat," Wendy requested.

"Nope, honey, it be you and me and the Hyperion," the Launcher 105 Dagger pilot replied immediately. "I hope I don't look that dumb to you."

"Strangely enough, no, you don't look or act that dumb," Wendy replied as she racked her beam rifle, then used one hand to reload it while her shield arm continued to provide guard – this time from the Hyperion. "You just can't blame a girl for tryin', though, can ya?"

"Points for effort, I believe is what you said?" Wendy barely had enough time to get her shield in place and block the blast from the 105's Agni Hyper Impulse cannon. A second and third shot from the enemy missed wide, Wendy maneuvering right and up and specifically away from the Hyperion that was trying to close on her left, with only a minor speed advantage to effect such a maneuver. Up and right managed to also be the direction the Launcher 105 Dagger was operating in, so she changed focus to the unit with the heavy beam cannon. To conceal her actual method, Wendy fired down and behind her twice to suppress the Hyperion, then snapped a fast shot off against the 105. Her Stamen rotated ninety degrees counterclockwise, presenting the shield to the Hyperion and a straight-arm beam rifle shot to the 105 for the last part of the approach; one last shot achieved the kill on the slower Launcher 105, but at the cost of a hyper impulse cannon blast that sheared the left leg clean off Wendy's machine.

"That's four, honey," Mina said as she dodged around railgun slugs from the wired gunbarrels on the Gunbarrel 105 Dagger, trying to use her vulcans to shoot them down. The enemy pilot was wise to Mina's try, and only one of the barrels was severed from the Gunbarrel 105.

"Yeah, and she lost a leg for it," Natarle replied simply.

"Honey, Mina and I have lost 281 arms or legs and 51 heads from our Stamens over our years of fighting. 283 limbs counting today. We're not all that impressed," Wendy replied.

"What the fuck?" the Hyperion pilot asked. "281 limbs? I could pay for a whole company of Mobile Suits on the price fixing all that would've taken!"

"Lot more than that, buddy-boy," Wendy replied. "Limbs off a Gundam ain't cheap."

Changing orientation and thrust to fight two opponents at once gave the Hyperion a speed advantage, which he closed on her with. Wendy's beam sabers clashed with a triangular lightwave shield on the Hyperion's left arm and a beam knife in his right hand. Wendy did not plan on giving him a fair fight, since the Hyperion was the most dangerous machine in the enemy force excepting the _Ophanim_ itself. Once clashed, the pilot of the Hyperion got a rude shock when his cameras went static, result of a dozen rounds of 60mm AP-EX vulcan cannon slugs to the face. The Eurasian test pilot's response was against the book, and something Wendy wasn't expecting. Rather than try to activate secondary systems, the Hyperion rotated downward and fired on where it thought Wendy's Stamen would be. Wendy still managed to bring her beam saber down into the torso cavity of the Hyperion, but she paid for it with five hits from the beam machine gun carried by her foe..

"Damn, five? They got five of us?" a lady among the three survivors asked.

"Only three more, sister," Mina declared on an open channel.

"We'll get two without issue," Wendy replied as she moved to join her sister against the Gunbarrel 105 Dagger. "Remember, it's the last ten percent that kills."

"Well, being the upper one percent of the Eurasian Mobile Forces, I think I'm entitled," Morgan Chevalier replied to Wendy's open-ended taunt.

"And that is why you are first, amigo," Mina replied. "I got 'em, sis, take on that Duel Dag and Sword."

"Yeah, you got 'em if you can get 'im before you run out of gas, girl," Wendy commented as she changed course to handle the two remaining enemy machines. "I get the feeling this isn't going to end well," she groused as she closed on the Duel Dagger, the slower of the two but the better fighter at range.

"Shit!" Mina shouted. "Another limb! One more and he beats the record! GRR!"

"Bite me!" the Duel Dagger pilot shouted as he drove his machine perpendicular and vertical relative to Wendy. His beam rifle work was expert, snapshots that were well-centered interspersed with missiles and ballistic cannon rounds, though Wendy's shield work was enough to rival his aim. When they closed to 200 kilometers, the pilot loosed his machine gun and drew a beam saber, having chewed off almost half the folding shield that Wendy was relying on. The loss of defense did not stop her from closing on the Duel Dagger, and his beam saber blocked the left-hand saber cold, but Wendy was aiming for her right-side to finish this one fast: a slash to the legs, then up on the inside of his machine's right arm, and finally a spike through the side of the head to finish it off. "Holy shit, how did she do that?"

"You've been bit, kid, have a nice day," Wendy said as she moved for the machine gun he loosed. She never made it to the gun before the Sword Calamity hit it with a Scylla blast and destroyed it, thereby denying Wendy the ability to support her sister without using the beam rifle. "Oh, a saucy one. How you holding, Mina?"

"I'm still alive, if it counts. Maybe this poor sod will run out of ammo before I run out of fuel." After a few moments, she sighed. "Yep, he's out of ammo. Hasn't shot at me in thirty seconds."

"Game over, ladies," the pilot of the Sword Calamity said.

"Oh, real saucy," Wendy replied. "I like a good fight. Bring it on, honey."

"Fuck! He beat the record!" Mina shouted in half-despair. "This guy is real good!" Wendy spared her a moment's glance, and noted that Mina's Stamen lacked both legs from the knees down and the entire right arm.

"Like I said—what?" Colonel Chevalier reacted badly to an unusual and prior-unheard of attack from the Stamen he faced, as Mina used the Gimmick claw in her Gundam's forearm as a makeshift weapon, and she aimed it for the eyes of his machine. It made a supreme distraction for only three seconds, but a window of three seconds for a member of the Angel Team is all that was needed. A beam saber slash from Mina's machine almost missed by way of Morgan's enhanced spatial awareness, but the forward meter of her beam saber gouged through his chest and specifically through the neural linkage necessary to run his machine. With that severed, Morgan was out of the fight.

"Well, this creates a problem," Wendy said. "Two wildly beat-up Stamens against a Sword Calamity."

"You can, of course, surrender, given that I've seen your repertoire of tricks and know how you're going to do this one," the lady pilot of the Sword Calamity replied. "I think I can come up with a few things a pair of bondswomen could do."

"Got some good news for ya, and some bad news for ya, honey," Mina replied as she loosed her beam saber and reached for the second beam saber on her machine. "Good news is you'll probably get me. Bad news is you probably won't live long enough to feel good about it."

"Interesting way of looking at it," the Sword Calamity pilot replied. She unlatched both swords and prepared the beam blades. "This is where it gets deep, girls."

-x-

_Star Commander Yamato, this is Strategic Officer Weste. The farthest of the Nelson-class ships from your present vantage point in the third group is preparing to launch a nuclear missile on dead-fire through the torpedo tube. It's a shot in the dark, but if it hits I don't think I need to tell you what will happen to the colony_. The telepathic nature of the report pretty much eliminated the necessity to ask for authentication, nobody else in the star system had twigged to the thought of using a Psionic to coordinate rapidly and in a secure fashion.

"Do I destroy the ship?" Alicia replied audibly but with her thumb off the radio switch.

_Too late, they will launch in about three seconds. Intercept the missile about three-quarters to the colony_.

"Understood," Alicia replied. She immediately began moving laterally toward where the target point was.

"Unicorn, Control, where are you going?" her controller asked. "Unicorn, state intentions—" the matter became clear after a moment. "Oh shit, missile launch, contact close aboard! One missile, intended target Mendel!"

"Moving to intercept," Alicia replied.

"Control, Thunderball, I'm in the area, trying shot now," Vhen Ra noted. He sighted up the incoming missile and waited for system lock; he could probably use boresight for the lasers on his machine, but not for his other weapons. Once locked, he pulled the trigger on his lasers and Gauss rifle; nothing happened. "What the hell? Thunderball is fox-four! (5)" Again he pulled the trigger, again nothing happened. "Command, Thunderball, negative fire, I show a system-wide failure in my fire-control systems!"

"Unicorn, command, missile is outside _Mjolnr_'s target envelope, you will need to splash," the controller ordered. The range was possible for an intercept, but none of the anti-MS weapons were in a position to fire at the moment.

"Easier said than done," Alicia replied from the cockpit of a machine not really designed for long-range small-target combat. Once her system gave her a preliminary target profile and lock, she took aim with the standard beam rifle and took two shots; one missed wide, the second missed by a mere meter. "Damn, gotta get closer," she groused.

"Can you take it down?" Gerald Lightbringer asked.

"Aff, sir, I'm almost in range now," Alicia replied.

Alicia put sights on, but her machine lost track to it at a certain angle; "Control, Unicorn, missile appears to be covered in RAM (6), I keep losing track to it." A third shot came close again; in space close still counted as 100 percent miss, whereas in atmosphere missing by half a meter would still cook a target from the thermal bloom.

"C'mon!" Wendy Barus shouted. "You're it, kid! Nobody else can range to it right now!"

Alicia did not respond, instead she thumbed the fire control for her head-mounted beam vulcans. The two beam machine guns that replaced the common 60mm vulcans fired in an alternating pattern but fired at 300 rounds a minute per gun, or ten rounds a second from both guns combined. The combination of rapid fire and area denial of the weapon put four hits on the missile, one of which being the missile's engine. With that hit, the engine flamed out and began sputtering, but the missile's course was unchanged.

"Control, Unicorn, have overtake speed now, closing for beam sword work," Alicia declared; her beam rifle went to the hold-point on the back of her shield and one of the hyper beam swords on her right hip was loosed to finish the job.

"This one's gonna be close!" Shani Andras shouted.

"Go honey go!" Oruga shouted.

Alicia jammed the throttle all the way forward to the stops to finish closing the gap. That much thrust put her on a collision course with the planet-side dock of the colony, but it also necessarily finished closing the gap between herself and the missile. Whence close enough, she reared back to strike; as she came even to the missile, she slashed down and back up, her overtake acceleration meaning that the missile was cleaved into three uneven chunks as she flew by.

"Warning, high radiation levels detected," her machine immediately flashed a visible warning, highlighting the remnants of the missile as Alicia jammed her throttle to get clear of the colony vertically; what remained of the missile would not pose a threat to the colony, but her impacting a wall would pose a threat to her life.

"Command, confirm missile was nuclear, it spiked my radiation detectors. Permission to see to the launching platform?"

"Permission granted," Gerald Lightbringer replied immediately.

Alicia switched frequencies to a general channel. "You know, they call these things anti-ship swords," and her Gundam fingered the handle of a Schwert Gewehr resting on the left hip of her machine. "I think it is time to put that name to the test, no?"

-x-

"This won't be pretty," the pilot of the Sword Calamity said. "They really mean it when those things are called Anti-ship swords." The battle had suspended without word when another raid warning had come across GUARD frequencies, this time declaring a missile launch at Mendel.

Alicia's Gundam went vertical in respect to the ships in question; the ship she targeted fired missiles to attempt to intercept her at range, though half the missiles failed to guide properly and the remaining were easily silenced by her beam vulcans. A pair of beams went down from her beam rifle into the main dorsal beam cannon turrets, preventing a lucky shot interception before she closed on the target. The sword led her charge on the top of the enemy ship; even as it cloaked in Mirage Colloid, Alicia continued onward until her machine impacted the bridge structure sword-point first. Most of the sword disappeared into the illusion of invisibility, though the increasing resistance of that penetration told enough tale. The Mirage Colloid dispersed with the loss of its control systems, leaving the ship crippled by the sword strike.

"That would be called a ship on a stick," Wendy said.

"Stick in their eye," Mina retorted. "Didn't some crazy motherfucker long ago refit a Dendrobium with a lance instead of the mega beam cannon and use it to poke ships?"

"Plural motherfuckers, sis," Wendy replied. "Negaverse Dendrobium pilots with a hard-on and plenty of time to kill would do that refit, go find some Feddie or Zeon ships and rack up some lance kills for the hell of it." Of course, Wendy was oversimplifying the sheer logistics of the matter by a factor of ten, but she didn't want to cloud the matter. "After a while they got very good at it, then they tried it on the Magi. They failed miserably. Back to the drawing board, bitches."

"What do you think?" the Sword Calamity pilot asked. "Call it quits, try again tomorrow?"

"Well, it looks like these Merc fucks are trying to screw both sides, or use this Trial as a distraction to get in some cheap shots on civvies, so personally I'm willing to say void match on circumstances. That is unless the Admiral wants to settle this right here right now, of course."

"What do you think, Commander Imelia?" Natarle asked of the Sword Calamity pilot.

"I can go for it if the Mendel pilots are willing," Rena replied.

"I'm game," Wendy acknowledged. "Sis?"

"Definitely," Mina commented. "Open round to the Sword Calamity pilot," she offered after she braced for the renewed offensive.

"Much obliged," Rena Imelia replied before she reversed her grip on her swords and aimed the pommels at Mina's machine. A Scylla blast annihilated what was left of Mina's shield, followed quickly by two beams from the schwert gewehr's pommel beam guns to the chest; the heavier armor on the Stamen prevented a penetration, but Mina's systems could tell one more good hit and it was over for her.

"Sis! Draw her left, I can end this if we flank her!" Wendy shouted.

"Way 'head of ya!" Mina was naturally moving left and around the target as a way to prevent being shot again. It didn't work well, given she had lost most of her maneuvering thrusters, but it was better than standing still and taking it.

Rena's next three shots missed on dint of a randomly-accelerating target, but the fourth shot connected. A Scylla blast went through the chest armor on Mina's Stamen Gundam and into the critical support systems for the engine. "SHIT! Engine breac—" her transmission cut out as the cockpit hatch blew open with a plasma gout, released from the bottom of the engine encapsulation. To anyone watching, there was little doubt that the entire cockpit of Mina's Gundam had been incinerated, much less the pilot.

"This ends here!" Rena Imelia shouted, recentering on the one remaining enemy pilot.

"Spank your ass back to Ptolamaeus!" Wendy taunted as she closed on the enemy from the left flank.

Rena managed to swing her swords around in time to challenge the faster Stamen machine bearing down on her, but not fast enough to prevent the strike from Wendy Barus. The Stamen took an impaling strike to the right of the cockpit as it delivered two impaling strikes of its own against the upper chest of the larger Sword Calamity. Rena's final act of defiance was to bring the right-hand sword up and down into the upper chest of the Stamen, a strike which resulted in Wendy's reactor suffering an emergency shutdown due to loss of cooling.

"Damn," Wendy muttered. "Command, Wendy here, need a medic pretty quick. Been impaled a couple times." The cockpits of Magi Gundams and Mobile Suits were surrounded by a wrapping of Kevlar and diamond fiber fabric, ostensibly used to stop shrapnel. That layer would not stop any serious penetration, which is what the primary armor was for, and in this case the primary armor had become the penetration that had gone through her right leg and arm, effectively skewering her to the seat of her Gundam.

-x-

"Okay, this is a problem," Admiral Badgiruel said. "If all the machines are down, and the last combatants literally struck each other down at the same time, now what?"

"Natarle Badgiruel, this is Commander Ward on the _Mjolnr_. In the case of draw matches such as this, the common Magi practice is to split the results fifty-fifty to both sides. In this case, I would split results as the Earth Alliance receives the right to attempt to Refuse actions from inside Mendel, in return for the _Ophanim_ and you as a Bondswoman. The Common Clan practice we Magi have encountered is to void both wagers. It is your choice."

Natarle swallowed hard, knowing this was the inevitable result of her gamble. She tried mightily to achieve the results that the command structure wanted, but even the Earth Alliance best could not (completely) do the job today. That she won a (more or less) fifty-fifty result from the battle would give the Earth Alliance a chance to continue the victory, but with the likes of that pilot driving the Gundam of Mass Destruction still to contend with and the three Biological CPUs now serving Mendel, this would be a great challenge for the Earth Alliance.

"Not enough result is achieved, at a cost too high," Natarle replied, knowing that the _Ophanim_ was still needed more than the right to interfere in what would assuredly be stacked Trials of Refusal. "I request to void the bids."

"Very well, you may recover your pilots and move to depart Mendel space," Commander Ward ordered. "You have sixty minutes to make your collections and begin your burn."

"And the cloaked fleet?" Natarle asked cautiously. They were technically not under her command, but if she could rescue them, so much the better.

"The ships that attacked Mendel directly are not allowed to retreat, and are now isorla of the Protectorate and specifically isorla of the _Mjolnr_, Alicia Yamato, Emily Reache, and Vhen Ra. They will not be returning with you."

-x-x-x-

"Think they'll actually do it?"

"Eventually, once they figure out what they need to do it with," Gerald replied before he slammed the last of his boilermaker.

Mendel had gone silent with the day of the Trial, but come alive after the conclusion. The Earth Alliance failed to win any concessions from Mendel, the right to call a Trial of Refusal for Mendel's actions, or even a decent victory. Eight of the Earth Alliance best against two of Mendel's best, and still Mendel won. To most, this was evidence that the Earth Alliance was playing a game that they could not win against a foe that appeared harder and harder to defeat with each battle.

The evening after the Trial was marked by block parties, cookouts, and lots of beer. The whole Protectorate had plenty of cause to celebrate, for now they were assured some measure of peace and stability with this latest loss taken by the EA. A lot of the Marines had passed around helmets in the barracks to collect donations for food to grill out for this occasion, though a lot of the cooking was done by civilians throughout the colony on food supplied by the Marines.

Star Admiral Centara had finished his duty watch for the day, then joined Century Commander Lightbringer at the site of the strip-mall shooting that seemed to be the origin point for the recent troubles. In stark contrast to those days of blood, the strip-mall was now host to one of the larger block parties in the colony, made just a hint raucous due to the presence of two bars in the same complex. Two beers and two burgers later, Wayne figured he had plenty of cause to celebrate along with the citizens of the colony. Mendel had finally definitively proven that they could face the Earth Alliance on the wrong side of 4-to-1 odds with reasonable expectation of at least breaking even, and the disparity in Warships was only more evidence of that fact. The loss of one of the best Mobile Armor pilots in the Protectorate, though, was unsettling to Wayne, and evidence that the position Mendel held was very brittle.

"New enemies, though," Wayne groused. He was referring to the pukes that had put out the contract on Mendel itself, the contract that had been answered by the five mercenary consortia with the cloaked _Nelson_-class ships.

"LOGOS," Gerald replied. "Bastards hiding in shadow, playing the world for a puppet. I've already got some ops laid on to get recon in place, my kind of recon, see if we can figure out what their deal is."

"If we have to go to war with these LOGOS pukes, I want everything up to and including their dick sizes on file for intelligence reporting and threat analysis."

"I think we can get that much," Gerald replied evenly.

"Good," Wayne replied.

"Once we have it, what do we do about it?"

"Good question," Wayne stalled while he thought of an answer. "I've been thinking real hard about that question of late, and in context of more than one thing."

"That worries me," Gerald replied.

"It should. What's your estimate on us getting a way home?"

"Less than fifty-fifty, boss," Gerald replied.

"Okay, that being said, what's our present chance of surviving a direct engagement with the Earth Alliance?" Wayne asked in series.

"Less than thirty-seventy, given present full force structures. Less than twenty-eighty if they hit us hard with a preemptive strike." Gerald's tone told he didn't like what he had to say, but he was being truthful.

"About what I figured," Wayne said. "Look, this is not the time or place to be playing fair. 'Specially since the other side ain't going to be playing fair."

"Beer much?" Gerald asked, given that Wayne practically never spoke like a hill-hick.

"Not enough," Wayne replied. "Now, on being fair or lack thereof, I figure it is time to pull out all the stops. We have missions to complete and civilians to protect, so we need to start acting like it. You want manufacturing, cut loose with the nanos. You want intelligence, we send in the Ghosts. We want an accurate read on their dick size, find a microscope. Follow?"

"Any restrictions?" Gerald asked for clarification.

"Don't nuke the fuckers, yet at least," Wayne replied. "Reciprocate their level of violence within the limits of justifiable Magi conduct. Don't be afraid to rip off their designs and methods. We'll probably enter into trade agreements with ZAFT and Orb for exchanging MS technology, so don't worry about that angle. Just make sure we get a good look at what the Earth Alliance is cooking up."

"Solid, sir," Gerald replied. "Bartender! Two Long Island Iced Teas!"

"OI!" the bartender shouted in reply.

"And, I know you've been burning to get it going, but we held off for quasi-political reasons. The android project is restarted, my authority, so long as the new procedures are used."

"Outstanding, sir. Recruiting?" Gerald asked.

"By the book," Wayne opined after a quick consider.

"OI! Your drinks are ready, Century Commander!" the Bartender shouted.

Gerald returned after a minute with the drinks. "A balanced diet is a drink in each hand," he declared for the laughs. Wayne thought it amusing, despite Gerald's near-alcoholic reputation. "What's my go-to-hell scenario and limitations?"

"The trigger for GOTH is the destruction of Mendel itself, and your limitations are none. If they wipe out the colony, I want company in Hell shortly after we get there, clear?"

"Aff, sir," Gerald replied with a smile. _This guy really does think like a Special Operator; maybe that's why I like working under him_. "I can have a rotating NEST officer on standby to do an atmospheric entry and one-way a greeting card to Washington for their intransigence. Half a Gig, enough to make sure we have the entire Atlantic Federation command structure as company when we get there." It also went without saying that there would be a lot of less-than-involved persons included in that casualty count, but such would not be the first time Magi had to trade nukes with an enemy state. It wasn't particularly fair for the civilians, but strategic warfare rarely ever was 'fair' by anyone's definition.

"Wendy?" Wayne asked in the relative silence thereafter.

"She's out for several months, lost a leg and arm in the battle from frag. Nanos are rebuilding the right half of her body right now. She will recover and return to duty fully." Gerald was silent for a few moments. "She took losing Mina pretty hard. She might not come back."

Wayne nodded at the news; he couldn't spare the losses, but by the same token he couldn't force her to pilot if she refused. "Put together a wishlist of things you've thought about doing that I've quashed for one reason or another, and present it in three days. We'll go over what is feasible and how to go about doing it," Wayne ordered after a moment's contemplation. "By the time we are ready to go home, I want these LOGOS pukes to shake 'n' quake in their jackboots at the mention of the name Multimage."

-x-x-x-

(16 January CE 72, 0800 hours)

(Mendel SDIZ)

"Mendel Flight Control, this is Yzak Joule, requesting permission to launch in MS to begin survey for Armory One."

"Yzak Joule, launch clearance granted, operations zone Zulu-6-Alpha is in effect," by which she meant he was not to leave the arranged operations zone except in emergency circumstances.

"Yzak Joule launching unpowered with eight," he said after he locked in the flight zone into his nav system. "Dropship, this is Joule. Continue to area slow, once we have site and orientation established we will begin unload and assembly."

"Dropship rogers your last," the ship's captain replied. ZAFT had commissioned a whole _Guild II_-class for the initial setup and survey of the new Armory One PLANT. The construction of the new Monitors had just begun in the PLANTs, the modular _Fenrir_-class Monitors, ships so large and efficient that you could disassemble three empty _Guild-II_ class Dropships and stow them in a single _Fenrir _and still have room to spare in the ship. The first of these new ships would roll out in about eight months, so until then the transport work would need to be done by a _Guild II_ ship until Orb began the production on its real small and efficiently-built _Kamui_-class mini-Dropships. The first of those ships would be available on the civilian market in two months.

"They make an impressive showing," Shiho Hahnenfuss said.

"One Blossom Gundam and that strange captured EA heavy-artillery machine," Yzak was referring to the GAT-X131 Calamity, the pilot of which was sufficiently bored with routine ops that he volunteered for sentry duty on the ZAFT team. Not that anyone expected anything to happen this soon after the Earth Alliance had been spanked, but security concerns were just that. "Engineering team, I want the plans laid in within the hour. The Chairman says this is a high-priority op, we get it going fast, clear?"

"Yes sir!"

Shiho and Yzak watched as the engineers began plotting how they were going to set up the military colony and in what order the construction would commence. The normal process would be to build the colony from center out, and in this case the same operation plan would be used. The differences would be numerous, mainly in the construction schedule (murderous) and the method of moving material around (by Dropship and later Monitor), but also in the style and special accommodations necessary for military deployment.

"I hear Dearka is working as an accountant here in Mendel," Shiho mentioned as the Engineers began assembling the telemetry beacons for the construction project.

"He is, still has his Buster," Yzak noted. "After we get the telemetry markers set up and the first module is on its way to completion, I think we should go pay him a visit."

"Do they allow that here? Armed Mobile Suits?" Shiho asked, not so much shocked by the thought of armed MS but by the fact that a civilian colony would allow them to dock there.

"Well yeah, they can't not allow them," Yzak replied. "Their military is their official government presence, and their military has a lot of Mobile Suits. Some of them will be inside the colony, civilian and military models, or military models owned by civilians, etcetera. Given we're technically 'ambassadors' from an allied nation, they'll probably let us at least as far as the military harbor area, maybe inside." Yzak really didn't consider himself an ambassador, nor did he like the thought of having to be one, but he simply braced to attention and saluted when ordered.

"Oh, that makes sense," Shiho replied. Her sensors began beeping with a new contact. "Contact, from Mendel, no IFF," she noted.

"Checking now...The BUSTER?" Yzak shouted. "What the hell is he doing out here?"

"You could ask, sir," Shiho noted fairly.

"I intend to," Yzak covered his outburst adroitly. He activated the last known radio channel the Buster was operating on and activated the video link. After two seconds, the video system synchronized. "YOU BASTARD!" He shouted at the 6x9 video screen on his upper console.

"You?" Dearka asked in shock. "You have a helluva way of starting conversations..."

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Yzak continued immediately, ignoring the oblique jibe at him from the Buster pilot.

"Bringing some presents for your Chairman, that's what," Dearka replied testily. "The Century Commander contracted me to tow some machines out here for shipment back to the PLANTs, got a problem with it?"

"Uh, no," Yzak was quite shocked at the thought of such a trade. "Do they have the engines in?"

"No, engines have been pulled and recycled for something else," Dearka admitted. "Supposedly, Durandal wants them for studying manufacturing processes used, not sure what he's supposed to learn from these old hunka junkers but they're his now."

"Probably not much," Yzak admitted on seeing the three machines. A Zaku, a Gouf, a Dom, and a Leo were cabled to his Buster Gundam for towing purposes; Yzak knew enough about the hardware in question to know the three machines weren't all that impressive by Magi standards. "So, what's the payout for these?"

"I dunno, never told me," Dearka replied immediately. "Probably not much, given these are four of their lowest-end machines possible."

"Well, the Chairman could always have them updated with our latest machine standards and processes..." Shiho noted.

"Hey, Yzak, when you get through babysitting these engineers, stop by the colony and come in. There's a kickass restaurant in Commercial 6 that you'll like, my treat."

"I was thinking about coming in to visit..." Yzak mused.

-x-x-x-

(15 February CE 72, 1930 hours)

(Office of the Chairman, Orb main administration building)

"And here I thought this was going to be incredibly difficult," Murrue said.

"Getting X amount of people to another star system, possibly to another dimension, no," Rondo Mina Sahaku replied evenly. "Getting enough military force there to count for anything, yes. Getting enough force in place to defend against the Magi or any of their rivals, not possible."

"They said they're not from this dimension, so can't we discount the arrival of more Magi or their enemies?" Cagalli asked fairly.

"Yes and no," Colonel Kisaka replied. "Yes, on the caveat that they have no reason to lie and no real track record of lying. No, in that once they do get home, it is extremely likely they will bring back some friends or possibly some fleas, and for that we will need at least a modicum of military forces."

Cagalli grimaced, and everyone knew why: she wanted the expansion to be peaceful, but already it was looking to be just another repeat of Earth's history.

"And then there is also the little problem of the Earth Alliance, which has both a track record of using hostile expansion and has a vested interest in maintenance of control. What better way to grab our nation by the throat than to take possession of its colonies, or worse, threaten to annihilate them?"

"Okay, I get the message," Cagalli replied to halt the continued macabre conversation. "How do we do this?"

"Our own Dropships will be needed, larger ones than the 4000-ton midgets we are building. I am thinking something in the 10,000 ton range, maybe a little higher but not by much. The larger your ship tends to be, the more expensive anything on the ship tends to be."

"Square-cube law," Cagalli summed it up. "The larger the ship, the more complex it is and therefore the more each individual component costs and the more cost it takes to assemble the ship." It was also the reason why the Magi had a relatively small amount of Dropships throughout their Empire when compared to the other Star Empires, but also had the same effective lift capacity as their rivals. What would take the Negaverse 12 Dropships to move a Regiment (10 battalion transports and two for supplies) would take the Magi two Dropships (one for the forces and one for the supplies). It also helped that the ships in question were engineered to live long and profit big-time, something that could also be said of the way LNC Engineering was designing the new and small _Kamui_-class ships.

"True," Rondo replied, seeing the logic in her statement. "We will need a ship in primarily three variants: cargo, passengers, and mobile forces. We'll go the same route as the _Kamui_-class ships, a bare-bones ship in all rights, and we will rely on our Mobile Forces to do the talking rather than try to heavy-arm the ship itself."

"Why not load the ship heavy as well?" Murrue asked.

"Not a Warship," Rondo replied. "A Warship is easily armed because it is primarily designed to slug it out. Dropships are primarily designed to enter and exit atmospheric bodies, and trying to put weapons on a Dropship increases the cost of that component by a factor of twenty-eight, I believe is the expected cost. Something about specialized equipment necessary to control, retract, power and cool the weapons not needed on Warships. Over sixty percent of the cost of a _Guild II_-class ship is in just the arsenal and combat modifications, such as heavier armor and structure, and in relative terms that isn't much of an arsenal given the ship still carries 60,000 tons of cargo. If you stack an armed _Guild II_ without mobile forces against a _Nelson_ without mobile forces, expect the _Nelson_ to win first time every time."

"And including mobile forces?" Murrue replied.

"Expect the _Guild II_ to dominate near-space in that case," Ledonir Kisaka answered for Rondo. "Two clusters of fighters is more firepower than the bulk of the Earth Alliance navy, and more firepower than any smaller nation can muster total."

"Off track," Cagalli prompted the three with her; Athrun was still in South America, seeing to their MS factory. She wanted his counsel on these matters...and his company. "Dropships, do we have to have zero-G manufacturing for them?"

"A minority of the components, ma'am," Rondo replied. "Our major problem is the engines, we have to have the real critical components manufactured by Mendel and imported. The rest can be fabricated and assembled here on Earth. In fact, I've already begun moving on the manufacturing end myself, getting suppliers and machining firms on-line in the USSA and the Equatorial Union. As a hedge against sabotage, I have also been assembling a QC team to verify incoming materials, equipment, and manufacturing for this project."

Cagalli nodded; it was as solid an operations concept as anything Rondo did. "Begin the construction as soon as possible, Rondo. The faster we can begin the expansion, the faster we can escape a position of operational weakness compared to the three big ones."

-x-x-x-

(From the personal records of Star Admiral Wayne Centara)

(25 March CE 72, 2145 hours UTC)

LOG ENTRY TITLE: Roads to Heaven, Roads to Hell

BEGINLOG

_Nine months ago, we found the road to Hell. Some would dare to say that it is as its twin, a stairway to Heaven and a mirror-image stairway to hell, but in this case I must respectfully but directly disagree. The road to Hell is a four-lane divided expressway, paved with two parts good intentions, two parts fanatical racism, and ten parts corporate profit at the expense of human life. No manner of being in Existence can deny the sheer dishonor of perpetuating a race war for the sole purpose of making a profit, and that appears to be the main goal of the National Defense Industry Association and LOGOS. They manufacture the weapons the Earth Alliance takes into battle, therefore it is in their best interest that they do not change the nature of the conflict._

_Nine months ago, we left one growing war, fought the beginning of a second war, and arrived in the middle of a third war. It is a common lament that Existence really does turn on such a perverse axis as to subject the common man and woman of an uncommon ship to such extreme conflict. It is even more common to lament that the Fates hate us, though assuredly I must disagree. The Fates are beings who have no time for hate or love, nor do they have inclination to spare time for such pursuits given the gravity of their task. The Fates have consigned us to this location by chance, nothing more. I doubt we could ever find the Fates physically, and in any case it would be extremely unlikely that we could exact vengeance for a crime they did not commit regardless. For that matter, I am unsure if what has happened here even qualifies as a crime, in all reality._

_Nine months ago, a world got a taste of steel. It was a conflict unprecedented to the world, a war between naturals and genetically-engineered Coordinators, and also of the planet against its colonies. It was, and to an extent still is, a race war, but most of the conflict centers around good old comrades: power and control. He immoral who has the power shall use it to maintain control, and force control when excess power is available. This is nothing new to the Magi; the Star Empire Wars were nothing more than the final echoes of the divine power and authority that the First Emperor squelched. Reminder to the coming generations: Nothing, and I do mean NOTHING, has more fury than a woman scorned, doubly so when that woman is a goddess. Except possibly God Himself, but He is rather laconic in applying such fury as far as I can tell. Or at least he hasn't actively done so to the Magi._

_Nine months ago...that is the rub: everything hinges around nine months ago, the day upon which a renegade warship got dropped in the wrong place, at the wrong time, without a way to go home and with a nasty race war around it. Well, all things considered, they don't make Magi with a 'pussy' setting, and we don't just bend over when ordered or when something goes mildly wrong. This is Hell, no doubt about it, but keep in mind that Satan has competition for being the baddest [CENSORED] in the Shadow of the Valley of Death, and present standing puts him about fourth in rank on the list of said beings. There are far worse things in Existence than a whistle-stop tour of Hell. For we Magi, our time in lands worse than Hell was the Star Empire Wars, whereupon we are still trying to estimate the total amount of casualties that nightmare caused, and its repercussions even 12,000 years later. For the residents of this planet, the horror is in the sheer destruction we veterans of wars long past can visit upon them, and the expected horrors of a repeated Star Empire Wars in this location. After all, you are expected to live in Hell; we Magi were not expected to live through the Star Empire Wars._

_Nine months ago, history was rewritten thrice, once for us, once for the Cosmic Era in which we now live, and once for all of Existence to come. We now only know of the Empire from memories, echoes, and images; most of us rightly do not expect to see it again, despite efforts to return. Our new history – our new future – is in the Cosmic Era, where we have now rewritten the expected outcome of that war into something bizarre to the locals. In turn, the changes we have built here will rewrite the history of Existence itself, though in a small part that we cannot thus far gauge. All we can hope is that we will survive long enough to do the same historical analysis that has been done of we Magi, now 16,000 year veterans of life and the living._

_Today, I close with a consideration. In exchange for the manpower necessary to build a Jumpship, we are helping the rest of the world build their own Jumpships. I cannot help but wonder how many of the nations on this planet have the will and the tenacity to become something more than simple robber barons on another planet. History has shown that just interplanetary expansion does not a Star Empire make. For each successful major Star Empire, there are thousands of small Star Empires and millions of failures. Right now, I have to say Orb and ZAFT are on the leaderboard, with Scandinavia also a possible, but the others don't appear to be in a position to make it._

_Only time will tell. Time we may have, time we may not have._

ENDLOG

-x-x-x-

(Ten Snippets of Preparation)

(All are on date 4 April CE 72)

"You're not moving fast enough!" his instructor shouted. "Put your damn foot down, Asuka! Before my boot finds your ass!"

Shinn needed no extra encouragement from those words. He did as he had been practicing for the past few nights on the sims, he began a transition and rapid close against the threat de rigeur, a Magi-piloted Gelgoog Marine. In theory, it was possible for the GuAIZ machines to defeat them in sustained combat, but so far nobody had found a good way to accomplish it. Shinn thought he had a winning combination.

The hits were a given; the Magi pilots practiced their gunnery in sim and in live-fire with a fanaticism that made them some of the best shots in Existence. Shinn took that into account and kept the shield of his 601R variant GuAIZ-R between him and the simulated enemy. Four impacts against the shield told enough tale, with a fifth (a missile) fracturing the heavy plate. It was enough, though, to get him in close on the enemy where gunnery was less favored than melee combat, and trapped the enemy in weapons transition with a point-blank alpha-strike. Shinn fired two beams and four rail gun slugs into the enemy machine in close, which resulted in a simulated kill.

"Not bad, kid, that's the kind of aggression we need to see from EVERYONE if we expect to go head-to-head against the Magi."

"I can do it better," Shinn replied. "Lemme have another crack at it."

-x-

"So this'll be our new ship, will it?" Sting asked the officer escorting them.

"Yeah, though they haven't assigned you pilots any Mobile Suits yet. I'm not sure what they intend you to do here," the Ensign replied.

"What're we supposed to do, go steal Mobile Suits?" Auel asked in an extremely snide tone of voice.

"Wouldn't surprise me if they did tell us to do that," Sting replied.

"Is it...not done yet?" Stella asked.

"No, 85 percent completed. She'll be ready for shakedown in two months," the Ensign replied.

"So, who's the commanding officer?" Sting asked.

"You report ultimately to Admiral Sutherland, but the ship's captain is Commander Morgan, for now," the Ensign replied. "That may be changed at a later time."

"Just so long as he doesn't screw up," Auel said before he turned and continued walking.

For its part, the _Girty Lue_ sat there in silent testament to the continued distrust between the parties involved. Some day it would be called to service, but for today an army of technicians continued to assemble it.

-x-

A seagull crossed between her and the sun, which engendered her opening an eye for a moment to see where it was. Satisfied it was not at threat of dumping on her, Flay closed her eye and resumed the sunbathing / nap combination.

Mendel was a bust as far as Blue Cosmos was concerned. For now at least. They were definitely planning on resuming operations in the renegade colony sometime soon, though in what fashion this would take place she did not know. For her part, she really didn't care what happened, she wanted revenge on the Coordinator bastards that killed her family. Blue Cosmos was fixated on Mendel for the time being, meaning that her personal vendetta would have to wait. Getting through one to get to the other was pretty much an operational requirement, and nothing untoward was being planned by either side against the Earth sphere, so the silence would be used to prepare new operations.

Flay would likely be involved. So far as anyone knew, her cover was still clean and would remain clean, so long as she kept her hands clean. Flay was more important to the organization as a spy than spear-carrier, and the upper-level management knew it. When she was in Mendel, she could tell BC what to do, who to strike and when to do it. Someone else could do the wet-work, because she was more valuable to the organization as an intel source than as a weapon.

She intended to get back to the most dangerous game in a few days. One thing she learned in Mendel is that 24/7 job equates to 24/7 burnout. Taking a vacation is a good thing for morale and stress. She rolled over and continued tanning on her back.

-x-

"Irene, what paperwork do I fill out for a 37-D personnel transfer?"

"37-D is a triplicate of the standard personnel form, plus a 4402 stub for our records and for the poor sod transferring in, Major Harrelson."

"Roger that," Ed whined. "Paperwork...why did God allow the continued existence of paperwork? No real person would want to do this..."

Ed pulled out the necessary forms, a trio of the standard personnel transfer forms and a pair of the 4402 stubs. Back in his short stint as a rebel, paperwork had been a good joke, something to decipher for intelligence, or occasionally used as substitute toilet paper. Nowadays the real military required everything in ample amounts of paperwork to armor a tank, and his superiors had more of the dread stuff to fill out themselves. Ed was glad he passed up the promotion offered to him lately, since he hadn't earned it in any fashion except coming half-right in deciding who would win the Trial of Possession.

The after-action report went just as Ed said it would; although technically a draw (hardly an impossible result in Trial by Combat), the Star Admiral still gave an impressive tactical recap that even the civilians could reasonably understand. The main selling point of that briefing was the huge heaping helping of TAKE THAT he delivered on 'the dumbass foes that thought they could pull a fast one on Magi' (gross paraphrase by Ed). Nothing changed by way of the battle, except the loss of some serious aces on both sides.

"Seriously, they thought they could sneak up on the soldiers of an Empire that is sixteen thousand years old, using a minor hull-cover stealth system?" Ed asked the 4402 stub he was filling out.

"If that 4402 stub answers back, tell me so I can get out of here. I don't want to see my former boyfriend succumbing to the screaming meemies over some paperwork."

Ed froze at the sound of the voice at the door to his office. "Jane Houston?"

"Yeah," she replied.

"What are...you doing here?" Ed asked quietly as he stood up.

"Following you," she replied.

-x-

"Their actions are hesitant," Cagalli observed.

"They are a bit green," Colonel Kisaka allowed.

"They will need to pick up the pace. Real life isn't this forgiving," Cagalli pressed.

"Certainly not our various noisy neighbors," Rondo Mina replied.

"I'm here, sorry I'm late," Athrun said as his machine settled to the ground nearby the three machines observing Orb's Morgenroete Training Battalion (MS). "Engine issues."

"Everything is all right?" Cagalli asked. The engine of the Justice Gundam was a self-contained nuclear reactor (fission). If it went critical it would not explode like a nuclear weapon, but Athrun would have some serious problems.

"Just some coolant circulation issues. I have a screen detailed to my reactor temperature and coolant pressures, if anything goes wrong I'll know well in advance of melting point."

"Good," Cagalli replied. "Just got you back from the USSA, I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Shall we begin?" Rondo Mina Sahaku asked. Nobody objected.

"King of the Hill training skirmish," Colonel Kisaka said. "Two of us fight, when one is declared winner, he or she is the new King of the Hill. Next person in knocks that King off the hill. Battle continues until we hit operational limit or someone retains the hill for three battles." beam sabers were drawn by everyone involved. Cagalli knew she was in for a rough go of it; unlike her brother, she was a plain natural with a knack for fighting, facing off against veterans and two Coordinators.

-x-

For Meer Campbell, Mendel had truly become the land of opportunity. By day she filed paperwork across a desk from that tall-dark-and-weird Dearka Elsman. She swore up and down that he would either do something great with his life or do something that would make him the star of the six o'clock news for a week, with betting running even at the moment. He didn't seem like the psycho type, but his quiet and often brooding attitude didn't really set well when compared to the three owners of the company, Juri, Mayura, and Asagi.

By night she sang a wide variety of songs in a nightclub, specializing in covers of Lacus Clyne, though her vocal range was suitable to cover everyone from Anette Olzon to Tina Turner. She tried mightily to cover Tarja Turunn, but her voice just didn't match and didn't sound right for the older Nightwish songs. Not that she wasn't trying, per se, but close didn't quite cut it with the Magi and their traditional fanboy addiction to the old Nightwish. Even with such a setback, she was still one of the most popular night acts in town. The fact that nobody had asked her to do a sexy number yet kinda worried her. Under Magi law, 17 was old enough to do so...

Dearka had been called out of the building on Mobile Suit affairs, leaving just her to guard the front desk and do paperwork. So, when a new person entered the building, she was a bit slow to look up as she was typing pretty fast.

"Welcome to LNC Engineering, can I help you?" Meer asked with just a glance in his direction. The grungy beard was ample evidence the entrant was not a lady.

"Actually, yes, you can," the guy said. "You're Meer Campbell, right?"

"Uh, yes," she did look at the speaker this time, and gasped. "You're...whoa. You're the guy who runs that appliance salvage and repair in IB-3, right?" Meer knew him because she bought her apartment appliances there. They didn't look impressive, but they worked extremely well.

"Yeah, that's my day job," he replied. "At night, I do a band in Commercial 7, and I'm looking for voice talent. I heard you sing last night, you're amazing."

"Uh, thanks," she replied, caught off guard by a guy wearing leathers and jeans in such an upscale area.

"I was wondering if you'd be willing to try a gig on Sunday, see if you would want to change night jobs," he said. "Any dice?"

Meer gave it a consideration. His act had a bit of street credit, arguably as much as she did. Such a combination might be enough to go big-time, her great dream, but...

"Sunday?" She hedged.

"Yeah, give it some thought," he said before he pulled a business card. "Give me a call if you want to try. No pressure; if I don't hear from you again, I won't press. I'm not like some rockers out there."

-x-

Again the chessboard served Durandal as a focus for attention, thinking of moves possible on both the board and in the rest of the game (real life).

"LOGOS, what do we know of them?" Durandal asked finally.

"Not a lot," his senior adviser replied. "So far, only a name and the fact that they have deep pockets." it went without saying that hiring out one warship was expensive, but twenty was even more so. "Beyond that, we are still trying to establish 'who, what and where' about them."

"Initial guesses?" Durandal asked for after moving a pawn on the chessboard.

"Our only guess is that these are people equal to or above the NDIA council members. Beyond that, anything I say might be a W-A-G, and just about as good."

"Time, I take it?" Durandal was referring to the necessity of time to actually seek out the targets and begin collecting intel on them.

"Time is a requirement sir; we don't even know what kind of power circles these persons move in."

Durandal's intercom buzzed. "Sir, I have Ambassador Greer from Mendel here with a delivery for you."

Durandal frowned in surprise; he had no knowledge of an incoming package. Being from Mendel, there would be no threat, which made the purpose of a delivery a curiosity. "Please see him in," Durandal requested

Within moments, Star Captain Greer was escorted in by a guard with a package under one arm. His dress uniform was always immaculate, and his row of ribbons had increased two more spots, representing his newly-acquired rating in Gundams (General purpose) and Gundams (Heavy Weapons). The only standing problem with such quals was the lack of an available machine for him, given that all the Gundams Mendel had were already in deploy.

"Ambassador, well come. To what do I owe the honor?" Durandal asked as the Ambassador approached.

"A gift from an old friend of mine, and a new friend of yours," the Star Captain replied. "Star Colonel Wilhelm sends his greetings and this package, sir," and he presented the somewhat large but flat box over the desk.

"The Star Colonel has my thanks," Durandal replied before he set the box down. A letter opener sufficed for breaking the shrink-wrap seal on the package. The contents of the box, however, was enough to set him gaping. "This is...wow."

"Those sets are often called 'Mechwarrior's Chess' or 'Star Empire Chess' for the common chess pieces used on them, and the more dynamic play involved." Six sets of the traditional chess pieces were included. The chess pieces were all made of marble but had gemstones set into the top to differentiate the color of the piece, being sapphire, emerald, ruby, diamond, amethyst, and onyx. "You would need to ask the Star Colonel the details, but that chess set is a minimum 2200 years old. I have never seen them made that way, and I used to live in the shadow of a factory that made them."

The board was even more stunning. Half a meter long from edge to edge, the board itself was comprised of a grid of hexagons fashioned into a large regular hexagon of 12 spaces a side. Theoretically, the marble hexagon had enough room for all six groups of pieces at once...

"These are...I've never seen this much marble in one place at one time," Durandal admitted, since marble was a very rare material in the PLANTs. The last thing in the box was the instruction booklet, a small leatherbound book only eight centimeters square and maybe 40 pages.

"Sets like this are rare," Ambassador Greer allowed. "It is an interesting game, though, especially if you can find six drunk Mechwarriors to play it."

"And all six can play at once?" Durandal asked in reply.

"Aye, sir," Greer answered. "The dynamic is different; rather than trying to think four or five steps forward from one opponent, you are forced to analyze and change tactics on the movements of five other opponents. Your battleplan can change from minute to minute, based solely on what others are doing."

"Knowing your opponents would certainly help," Durandal replied. "How well do you play?"

"Honest answer? If I break even with the number five guy, I'm doing good," Greer replied candidly.

"Would you care, then, to school a novice or two this evening? Best I be ready for Star Colonel Wilhelm when next he visits."

-x-

"When I was inducted into my first operations unit, the Strategic Psionic that my team trained under told us three things; three very important lessons. Today I tell you the same, and hopefully you will learn at least two of the three faster than my team did. Feel free to interrupt with questions as necessary, and that goes now and forever; since this is OJT, you three have to ask before you can know, and apply before you can learn."

"Aye, milady," Leon replied. Ashe and Sapphire simply nodded.

"First lesson, look everywhere and at everyone. Given the three of you are the most powerful team I have dealt with short of my old team, and since we are camped indefinitely in a Psionic's definition of 'close quarters' there should be no issue in finding and identifying LOGOS once we have an idea where to look. Same applies to anyone else who wants our asses on a pike, both inside and outside this colony. Listen carefully for the buzzwords, especially mass destruction terms."

"What about tracking chains of personnel?" Sapphire asked. "We have their messenger in the colony, Flay Allster, shouldn't we run her rat-line down?"

"Leave the tracking to me, I want you three finding the threats. I'll bird dog for the boys in blue." She wasn't referring to the police, she was referring to the Commandos who normally operated with a blue uniform.

"Understood, milady," Sapphire replied.

Calamira nodded. A second office was being prepared as they spoke for the use of this trio, and Calamira had found a set of chairs that they could use comfortably while holding hands for linking. "Your second lesson, and this one is a damned important one the longer you three are together, never let anyone separate you for any length of time, and definitely never let anyone reassign one of you to an out-of-the-way command and leave the other two flapping in the wind. Follow?"

"Why...didn't you fight it?" Ashe asked after a few seconds of silence.

"I didn't think I could win it. I gave into despair because I thought the Admiralty could not be defeated. Then the Star Admiral got transferred in, and we gained hope in possibly beating the fail out of the Admiralty. Then we landed here."

"And then you rewrote history." Not a question, but a comment from Leon.

Calamira simply nodded. "Ready for part three?"

"Yes, milady," Sapphire replied.

"The three of you will be going through Small Craft flight school. It's not mandatory, and you can opt out, but I highly advise you do it."

From all three, blank stares permeated their faces. "Uh, what?"

"Serious. Ashe has a piss-poor broadcast rating for her psionics. Leon is acceptable; couple hundred meters if you shout. Sapphire is the loud one; you could probably be heard on the surface of the moon from here."

"Is that good or bad?" Sapphire asked.

"Both. Good if you need to make a public service announcement, you know, like telling everyone to get to cover or get to gas masks. Bad if you three want to get personal with each other."

Again, the three wore blank stares. "What?" This time from Leon

"Don't give me that," Calamira replied immediately. "It wasn't too long ago I was seventeen, and more to the point I am also part of a Triangle. I know better than most what it's like living with two others in your mind. This is the third lesson of the Strategic Psionics: never have intercourse within hearing range of other psionically-sensitive persons. It's embarrassing for a start, and a lot of Psi-sens persons aren't too happy about feeling the mental part of getting laid without being physically involved."

Leon got the message: "So, you learn how to fly a shuttle, you go out away from the orbital plane and you take a week's vacation watching movies and getting laid, then you come home."

"Exactly; since they _do_ issue vacation time in the Jokers Wild, once you're flight rated you can go out and play if you want."

-x-

"And this is where I'm supposed to say something the typical guy would," Kira began; "but since you are using that tack nailer with 100 percent accuracy, all I'm going to say is I never thought you knew how to do construction."

Lacus snorted between swings of the loud but rapid nailing device. "It's not that difficult," Lacus replied evenly between swings.

"True," Kira admitted before he drove another screw into the marine-grade plywood panels he was hanging. "So, how do we do the walls in here?"

"Wallpaper, I have it already picked out," Lacus admitted.

Kira checked his project map again, and verified that this was to be one of the kids' rooms for the updated Malchio Orphanage. It would also be his new residence and the repository of the Freedom Gundam (that bunker area was still being built), but most of all it would be his new home. The dilapidated and abandoned old structure would be a beautiful residence for the few surviving senior staff of the Three Ships Alliance, once it was cleaned up and rebuilt, and it would provide housing for up to 50 children at full capacity.

The only problem was as brutally straightforward as it was pleasant. The entire structure was within 30 meters of the ocean, with a beach not far from the back door and a good south wind to bring the sea breeze into the house. Such proximity meant that salt-air corrosion and high humidity were a given for the house, and anything put inside had to be marine-grade to survive for any length of time. Dehumidifiers were also being installed in areas where heavy electronics would be installed. Such equipment and material was far from cheap when compared to normal housing costs, though Kira had some unexpected finance from his Morgenroete consulting work to use for the project.

"Hey Kira, have an extra box of wall screws?" Mu asked from the doorway to the bedroom-to-be.

"Yeah," he threw a small box of the screws to Mu.

Kira's radio beeped as the screws were in midair. "Kira, you on?" Murrue asked.

"Go for Kira," he replied a moment later.

"Do we want large tiles for the kitchen remodel project, or small ones?" she asked from the wholesale store about four kilometers away.

"Lacus?" Kira asked.

"Oh," she made a show of deciding. "I vote small," she replied.

"Mu?"

"I'd vote small, but the kitchen ain't my territory," he replied. "Call me if the patio and grill area is in question."

"Two votes small, one vote large tile," Kira replied over the radio.

"I'll go medium, then, split the difference," Murrue replied. "We'll start the tile work after the cabinet contractor has finished. I'll need extra hands for it."

"I'll help," Lacus noted.

"Lacus volunteers," Kira put out on the radio. "Also, while you're there, can you get several boxes of two-inch marine-grade wood screws?" Despite the centuries of progress, fasteners still came in the English measurements, a move calculated to drive Kira bonkers when he grew up learning the metric system.

"Already got 'em, anything else?" Murrue asked in counter.

"Nope, we're good for now," Kira replied, eying the hardwood planks he would be setting down with Lacus' help here in the next ten minutes, given how quickly she was putting down the padding and vapor barrier.

"I'm out, be back in twenty." Her radio clicked off audibly.

"I'm glad Orbital put in that radio repeater antenna system around the island, makes this job a whole lot easier," Kira said to nobody in particular. The system was simplicity itself: each phone pole on the island received an antenna that picked up radio frequencies and retransmitted them in the area of a receiver on the same frequency. Because the system was technically short-ranged (the distance between the receivers only needed be measured between the handset and phone pole, everything else was wire transmission), it overcame the linear canceling effects of the N-Jammers.

"It isn't over yet, Kira dear," Lacus noted before she tacked down more of the flooring padding..

"True," Kira conceded before he hefted the next plywood panel into place to align and screw to the studs.

-x-

"Dude, what the hell is this?" Clotho asked.

"Shut up and eat it," Shani replied. "It's better than it looks."

"Seriously, what the hell is it?" Clotho asked more insistently.

"Dude, if you don't shut up and eat the goddamn burrito, you will be wearing it up your ass," Shani finally said.

"Yessir," Clotho replied in a squeak.

Clotho took a bite and immediately seized up. "You didn't put extra seasoning in his filler, did you?" Oruga asked Shani.

"Hell no, I used the same filler in all of ours. I didn't fuck it up, did I?" Shani asked.

"I like it," Oruga replied between bites. "Is he going to start convulsing here in a few moments?"

Without a word, Clotho picked the burrito up again and began chowing down on it as quickly as he could cram it in his mouth and swallow the remnants.

"Go motherfucker go," Oruga replied in awe of how quickly Clotho could eat a 20-cm burrito.

"Damn, dawg, did you even stop to taste it after the first bite?" Shani asked.

"There's more, right?" Clotho asked, apparently disregarding the question.

"Yeah, just don't eat it all, man. That's breakfast tomorrow."

"Hell yeah," Clotho said before he headed into the kitchen for a second.

"I'd say that says enough about your cooking," Oruga replied. "Where'd you learn?"

"Sniper Bar and Grill," Shani replied. "While you were busy in the ship's library and Clotho was down in the holo rooms, I was learning how to cook from the former sniper."

"You know, if we ever get to a point were we don't have asses to kick, we could open a restaurant," Oruga opined.

"Maybe," Shani replied evenly. "Depends on what dipdunk wants to do," and the wave of his fork at Clotho coming their way was answer enough.

"This is good shit, man," Clotho said as he sat down.

"Good Gods, I'm glad we all have separate rooms," Oruga noted. "The amount of beans he just consumed is going to be a hellish night."

"Whatever you do, dude, don't light a match," Shani said. "Methane in quantity is explosive."

-x-x-x-

(2 June SL2-12, 1400 hours Terran Standard Time)

(Area of the Battle of the Dolls, Multimage Star Empire periphery territories (Parallel Dimension E-661020))

"This is sick."

"This is the form of war we have fought long and hard to squelch," Division Commander (Commandos) Agrippa declared, cold of voice and temper. "This is what we fight, and this is the price we sometimes pay," and his Gundam reached out to the shredded hulk of a Fireball Aerofighter. "What unit is this?"

"This is the Aerofighter unit that was picked up by the _Mjolnr_ from that derelict recharge station around the Carver system, dimension D-744092. We also have some fighters from the _Mjolnr_ itself, lower-end Omnifighters like Vandal and Sabutai, and Mobile Suits from every one of the escort ships and the warship itself." The reporting officer was a Commando Gundam Pilot, who knew how to identify forces and threats accurately and quickly.

"So, this was the _Mjolnr_'s handiwork," Stan said, smiling even so. "What do you think, mister?"

"I think the ship that everyone said sucks actually managed to count coup, Division Commander," the same Commando Gundam Pilot said. "Call it five thousand Mobile Dolls as a floor figure, probably closer to six thousand. A powercrush in other words, except that they didn't use enough power and they didn't achieve the crush."

"Looks like yet another group that has underestimated this old clunker of a ship," Stan Agrippa commented. "Now, where is it?"

"Last thought I got, sir, was they jumped backwards in time to avoid a round two," the Strategic Psionic for Stan's warship noted. "They were planning 5000 years back, but they never showed up in the records from this jump," he continued.

"And this is where the problem comes into play. We know the ship survived, so where are they?" Stan asked almost rhetorically while the MHW-11006_ Cold Sword_, a sister ship to the MHW-6428 _Mjolnr _but not in the same Division, began sweeping through the wreckage field.

Four _Phalanx_-class ships and twenty-six Monitors of varying types had descended on the battlefield, with a total of over 6000 Mobile Suits, Gundams and Aerofighters in carried forces. Part of the tour de force was for the search for survivors or intelligence, the rest was for the obvious reason. Some unidentified force had jumped a _Phalanx_-class ship and they probably would try again; nobody in the fleet was intent to take chances on that score. If it showed heat similar to a running reactor and it had an enemy silhouette, it was shot again just to verify a kill.

"No clue, sir," the Strategic Psionic replied. "We have no records of the ships ever showing up in our past, so either they are outside the maximum cross-dimensional range of the I-HPG network or they had a jump engine failure."

"Cheery thought, that," Division Commander Agrippa commented drolly. "Still, I must discount that possibility. If the jump engine failed, that lousy bastard Gerald Lightbringer should have survived unless he was asleep at the time."

"Or already dead, sir. We have more than a few eliminated Neue Ziel wrecks out here," a Commando Galaxy Commander reported.

"Any of them white with a formation symbol of six angel wings?"

"Neg, sir, none seen thus far," the same Galaxy Commander replied, chastised of such a possibility. "All the deceased mobile armors are from the _Mjolnr_'s main unit itself. It got bloody, though they gave far better than received."

"Better than ten to one in the _Mjolnr_'s favor," Division Commander (Special Operations) Aileen Lightbringer commented. "Much as I am loath to report good news in a sea of bad juju, I can't sense my brother's death. Even if he had died in jump, I would be able to sense his dying near the hyperspace ingress point. He didn't die, which means the ship is marooned somewhere. So, ideas on how to find them? Stan?"

"Short answer, I can only think of two people who would be able to find them."

The radio band was silent for nearly thirty seconds. "Oh FUCK no! Those two assholes? Is there nobody else?"

"Unfortunately not," Stan replied. "And really, once you get past the hard exterior, they are less 'asshole' than you are sometimes."

"You can't be serious about that, Stan!" Aileen half-shouted, half-screeched. "One's a cold sniper sonuvabitch and his 'better half' has fucked up more good Magi operations than I can count!" Aileen finished her rant sharply.

"The prosecution rests our case," Stan replied immediately, which comment caused more than a few of the Commandos to laugh outright at how Division Commander Lightbringer proved Stan correct. "_Cold Sword_ flight control, this is DC Agrippa. I am RTB, I shall be gating out to Terra Two (7) once my machine is secured. Please HPG message priority critic for the Empress that I have report on the loss of the _Mjolnr_ and will require the assistance of her old friend Hotaru in tracking it down."

"_Cold Sword_ copies your last, message will be sent in three minutes," the flight controller replied.

"I really wish you wouldn't involve her," Aileen Lightbringer half-entreated, half-complained.

"If you want to see your brother alive again, there is no way around it," Stan replied. "Hotaru Tomoe is one of the Master Executors and an old friend of both former Empress Serena and Empress Rini. Give her the dues she has earned; it may yet be her machinations that save us all during the days of Ragnarok." Stan's comment wasn't so much a statement as it was a warning shot at the (significantly junior) Division Commander of Special Operations.

"Aff, Division Commander Agrippa," she got the message loud and clear: _bury the bias or you may be buried along with it_.

* * *

Author's Chapter Afterword:

It is weird to look upon the final chapter of the Legend of the Jokers Wild and know that I am only 12.5 percent done (1/8 sections). Yes, you read that right: seven more sections to go, though I am not counting the finale work (The Days of Ragnarok) in that listing. And every one of the sections to come will be just as bloody as this one, if not more so, and with side stories to make 'em even bloodier.

The challenge of the Jokers Wild is that it is an extension to a history that I have not completely written out yet (the Multimage Chronicles). More to the point, the history in question also slightly alters and repeatedly intersects the original, in what is called a Stable Time Loop. One of the major points of the second set of the Jokers Wild is to explore this issue, and exploit it. I'll save the detail work for then; it will be involved and very bloody. Most of the intersections between the two lines will be covered under side stories, for they are interesting but not game-changing encounters. On the other hand, don't expect those intersections for some time; the first encounter will not be for a long time in both lines (set 3 for the MMC, set 6 for the Jokers Wild).

On the premise of the chapter, I have to admit the dice did give me a case of heartburn. The first (and foremost) result was the actual outcome of the Trial. Given that in Battletech it is theoretically possible (if rare) to end a game turn with both units destroying each other on the same turn, I translate this fact to consider that the same thing is possible IRL and even more easily than in BT. Consider: if two fighters launch air-to-air missiles at each other at the same time, and neither is able to dodge or countermeasure, both planes are toast. Same thing applies here, and did happen: Wendy Barus and Rena Imelia ended up killing each other off at the same time, resulting in a technical draw battle. That it happens enough for the Magi to have common practice for draw battles should be telling as to how many Trials are conducted among the Magi, and how often luck/fate/piloting skills/ordinance variance/God favors the draw battle. The fact that Wendy also got chewed up fairly badly means that she may not be off the wounded list before the start of the second Set, and definitely won't be off the list before the beginning of the side stories. Mina's death won't help the unit, either.

The remainder of the chapter is machinations on the future, setup for the coming arc of the Jokers Wild. Every side has its own aims, desires, and needs, making this match infinitely more complex than just a race war. The Earth Alliance wants its territorial integrity and control, ZAFT wants away from the Earth Alliance and the continuation of its Coordinator programs, Orb wants its neutrality, Mendel wants a way home (and not to be exterminated), the USSA wants its territorial integrity and trade with the others, the list goes on. The oversimplification of Gundam SEED Destiny will not be seen in the next set; this may be fertile grounds for a race war, but never again shall you expect such a shallow work to be portrayed. Even a decent race war is more complex than was shown in Destiny.

Pay attention to the last section of the chapter, the Magi examining the wreckage caused by the battle in chapter two. The Magi want to know what happened, and more to the point want to know who just attacked them. The answer is going to be extremely chilling, but it won't be available immediately. A few have guessed at what is the origin of these Mobile Dolls, and a few have grazed the answer partially, but again the complexity of the beast comes into play and the enemy is not so easily defined as 'remnants of Blue Cosmos' or somesuch. Expect the thread began by this little section to be picked up and carried to a logical conclusion by the second set of the Jokers Wild, and not in the fashion that some have opined. Hell, it won't even match the original Flight of the Jokers Wild, not in particulars.

On the main-line story, this section is now officially complete. There will be a continuation between the major sets of the Jokers Wild in side stories, the next of which being Dilemma of Flay Allster. I have long sworn by Flay, despite her many faults, and in this story she will receive her dues as is needed. Not to mention, you have to admit it is kinda creepy, given she was the first to have sex with a Gundam main pilot during the actual series.

Put 'em on safe and let 'em hang, this one is done.

* * *

Review Replies: ELEVEN reviews for this chapter! I was wildly impressed that I had so much feedback on this last chapter. Much thank you all for the support! There was also a new reviewer in the ranks who posted for Chapters 2 and 7, but haven't heard anything new from him since those two.

**FraserMage**: The Slaughter Dagger will definitely show up in some of the side stories, and may show up in the mainline. Thx again for the Cornelius info, it will help the EA logistical model, for what good that will help them.

**Alex Yamato**: I hope this battle qualifies for the above expectations. Not much of a battle for Alicia, but...

**Rickrolled**: There are many ways to play such a battle, and ambush is one of them. The design you passed me will get a side-story workout, though, so stand by on that note. Couldn't really enmesh it into the mainline in a creative fashion, but there are some good possibles to come...

**Nightblader1021**: The EA made a successful saving throw, such as it is. Next time may not be so lucky for them.

**Deathzealot**: The 105 Dagger double-post was a paste error on my part. Once is enough, even though it is a fairly awesome suit :)

Ramble on, amigo, ramble on. Your theories on artillery are interesting, though the EA needs to get the memo, not we readers. On the other hand, Natarle pulled a fast bait-and-switch on Mendel, though she paid for yanking the tiger's tail in their own cage. This leaves the question as to how things will go in the second set, with only Chevalier, Roanoke and Sutherland as competent commanders in the EA who have seen the battle against the Magi.

Thx for lengthy review, always a pleasure :)

**Necroblade**: My dice? Loaded? Preposterous! :) Actually, I don't use dice per se, I use the website random (dot_org) to do the real dirty work of the decision process. Initially I planned on Mendel winning (barely), but the dice gave up a neutral entry and I had to split the difference somehow...

The beta assistance is extremely helpful, amigo. I can already tell my writing is beginning to shift in response to trying to have less things for you to correct, in essence fuzzy logic learning to correct my writing style. Stay tuned, there will be PLENTY more to beta on, starting with the renewed AAA work and the first full-length side story of the Jokers Wild.

All of the above opinions on what will happen are subject to the dice/RNG system I use, so you'll have to remain for the surprise. Sorry I can't be a little more forth, but the system is its own engine and drive for this problem...

As to changing history, this is only the beginning of the changes, and even what I opined as the changes made in Flight of the JW will change somewhat drastically. In addition to doing so with much more detail than the last time, of course. There is much story to tell here.

On the relationships, you have to ask whether or not Cagalli means more to Athrun than his homeland does. Also, with the way Orb was acting politically at the time, it seemed that Orb had knifed him (and its entire populous of Coordinators) in the back for no apparent gain, so he was probably more than just a little bit disillusioned with both Orb and Cagalli, the latter for not standing up to the royal dickhead Yuna. This may not be the case this time around, which would change the dynamic of him leaving to fight for ZAFT, if it came to that at all.

**MathiasOSX**: _(Review one)_ The Alpha Azieru and Big Zam are able to fit into the _Mjolnr_ because the ship is over 5 kilometers long and has cross-section dimensions of over 600 meters. The _Phalanx_-class ships are as much mobile base and aircraft carrier as it is a warship. Hearkens back top the original story in which it was designed and built in, the Multimage Chronicles I am still writing.

_(Review two)_ The _Mjolnr_ itself is based on Thor's Hammer, which again hearkens back to the original MMC and parts of it I have not written yet. I am well aware of MAHQ and use it frequently as a reference.

**Knightowl 4183**: Keep in mind that at the end of the Second of Jachin Due, the Eurasians had little in the way of fighting strength available, but the timeframe in which this battle occurs is two months after the Magi gave the EA an object lesson in the necessity of a small cadre of high-effectiveness MS. The reason why you see a large amount of the Dagger units and similar in this chapter and the prior is because the Magi just proved the Strike Dagger wildly ineffective even en masse. It is not beyond reason that the Eurasians would go about building additional Hyperion units when faced with clear warning that the Magi aren't even intimidated by Strike Daggers.

Also, another thing to keep in mind that having your butt kicked tends to recenter your focus on the kicking party. Granted, the Eurasians do not trust the Atlantic Federation and probably will never trust them, but right now damaging or neutralizing Mendel takes priority over factional infighting. First things first and all that, especially if the Eurasians can theoretically acquire some advanced tech or processes.

**Knives91**: Fate is not always kind to the righteous. Further example of that is coming up in spades in my other stories.

**Endrax**: They managed to move up availability of the prototype Thunderball, but not without bugs as is demonstrated in this chapter. It will have a better showing in some of the coming chapters, though...

Shin's shown here in ZAFT, as he theoretically emigrated from Orb and to ZAFT before anyone even knew the _Mjolnr_ was in the system. He still wants vengeance, and revenge is a thing that can be easily corrupted with the right manipulation, though this does come down to who has the best plan for manipulating him.

**MantaArms1989**: This section of the Jokers Wild is 20 Chapters (this is the last chapter) plus a single 2-chapter side story. It will be continued in a siumilar fashion to the ASTRAY series with another side story, Dilemma of Flay Allster. I have some wicked plans for that little piece, so if you want the good tactical and strategic espionage action, stand by.

**JC**: Sounds like a solid crossover to me, though I cannot do it given how much else I have on my plate right now.

* * *

The Gripe Sheet:

Once more, thanks to **Necroblade**, a stalwart of error-checking. He pointed out two very major logic fails on my part, courtesy of my trying to write this while adjusting to a 3rd-shift helpdesk job.

* * *

Footnotes:

(1): **L**aser **L**ine **o**f **C**ommunication. Uses high-bandwidth laser technology for the relay of information.

(2): It has been so long since I have prepared this recipe that I no longer have the family recipe. I was planning on including it, but it would do a disservice to guess at it.

(3): **Cutdown** is the lowest amount of forces that can be bid with a reasonable expectation of victory. Bidding below cutdown is usually only done when a warrior intends on dying in the battle (going out in a blaze of glory) or when an opponent requests a dispensation that requires a reduction in forces below cutdown.

(4): **Operating With Zero** is said when a pilot is operating solo. If a pilot is working in a formation (up to 5), they would declare number instead of zero.

(5): **FOX** codes are used to denote firing weapons from an airplane: Fox One for semi-active radar missiles (missiles rely on radar from other machines, i.e. an aircraft), Fox Two for Infrared missiles, Fox Three for active radar missiles (missiles have their own radar), Fox Four is for guns.

(6): RAM in this use stands for **R**adar-**A**bsorbent **M**aterial, a costly material used to help prevent radar tracking of flying objects.

(7): **Terra Two** is the capital world of the Multimage Star Empire. **Terra One** is the theoretical birthplace of the first Emperor of the Magi, though is not held by any of the Star Empires. **Terra Zero** is a neutral planet, self-governed with the Star League's home based on the moon around it.


End file.
